


Halloween Stories of 2020

by greencateyes_99



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Energy Field Sexual Interfacing, F/M, Gen, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Haunted mirrors, M/M, Multi, Succubus, ghost - Freeform, harm to a sparkling, spooky things, things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greencateyes_99/pseuds/greencateyes_99
Summary: Its that time of year again. Bring out the pumpkins, skeletons, and your stash of candy. Hopefully, this doesn't go the same as 2020 has. ;)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. See Me

Rodimus felt weird when he online. Not his normal broody fake to make it, self. Instead of pondering it he shrugs it off and gets ready for his shift. Which looking at the time he winches, he was extremely late. To his surprise though there were not any angry disappointed messages from Megatron nor Ultra Magnus.

“Maybe they finally got tired of it,” he mutters. “oh well, since I’m late might as well get something from Swerves.”

He quickly shoots Drift a quick message before leaving his hab. As he steps out into the hall no one greeted him. which no biggie not that anyone bothers to greet him most days. The feeling returned though as he walked down the hall to Swerves. Everyone he passed acted like they didn’t see him. Not even Thunderclash who usually says something to him or quirks a smile.

Not that Rodimus ever notices that. Why would he notice any attention the noble aft gives him? Nope, not him.

As he sat down and waited for Swerve to slide him his usual. Rodimus’s spoiler began to twitch with unease. Fluffing out his plating he stubbornly ignores the feeling, he just wanted to enjoy his cube before facing down his co-captains and Magnus’s disappointment face. Again, not that it bothered him. if it was Drift now, he might feel bad.

“Hey Swerve,” he calls to the minibot, “how about a cube for your fav Captain.”

Swerve acts like he never even heard him. Rodimus huffs, “are you upset that I haven’t paid my tab yet?” Still getting the cold shoulder, “seriously I’ll pay ya back.” He digs into his subspace, “See here’s the full amount.” He holds out the credit stick. Yet the minibot doesn’t turn to take it. Grumbling the flame mech snorts, “fine. Don’t take it. In fact, I’m not hungry.” he shoves away from the bar.

Swerve still did not react and that just anger Rodimus more.

He burst into the command deck with a shout. “Hey Megs, sorry for being late. The berth just felt so good and all that. So, you can go do whatever it is you do and I’ll take over.”

Expecting to be chastised he waltzes over to his shared office. He ignores the silence, no heavy steps follow, no grumbles, or words. Before entering his office Rodimus turns expecting Megatron’s scowl. Nothing, the gray mech carried on standing behind Blaster talking quietly. None of the mechs on the bridge so much as looked at him. Frowning Rodimus marches over to Megatron.

“Hey Megs,” he reaches out grabbing a gray arm. Only, “Whaaaa?” his hand went through the larger mechs arms. He jerks his hand away like the gray armor was molten hot. “Hey what happened?” he turns to Blaster trying the same thing. This time he fell through the red and yellow host mech. “This isn’t funny!” the sound of the doors hissing open and familiar white finials appear over Megatron’s shoulders.

“Drift!” Rodimus launches towards the swordsmech. He falls through him and lands on his face. “Drift?” the white mech never reacted. “Can’t you see me?” some type of emotion enters his voice. One he hadn’t heard since Nyon. He wildly looks around, “can’t anyone see me; hear me?”

 _: Buddy:_ he tries the comms. Nothing.

Struggling to get to his feet Rodimus, why didn’t his frame want to work, Rodimus runs out of the bridge. He crashes into Thunderclash, or through Thunderclash. The big mech didn’t react to it and kept on walking.

The fear raising, he runs the Med Bay, “Ratchet!” he barrels through the doors, “First Aid; Anyone, I’ll take Brainstorm even!” the medbay was silent both medics were muttering quietly in the corner. There were no mechs or femmes on the berths. Velocity was typing away in her little cubical. No one said anything about his arrival, not even Ratchet’s usual snark.

He stumbles backward and continues running towards Preceptors and Brainstorms area of the ship. “Guys-ahhh!” this time the door doesn’t open he phases through it. “no nononononono, guys you have to help me! I’m going through mechs; no one can see me or hear me!” still seating on the floor despair sits in. The two mechs hadn’t turned towards him their backs were still facing him. “Guys?” he could hear the despair now. “this is a joke right; one of Brainstorm's creations gone wild?” nothing.

Preceptor turns and moves through him as if he were made of air. So, lost in shock Rodimus doesn’t notice until he’s waist-deep through the floor. “What; no someone help,” he cries out. “Please someone, anyone!”

No one hears him as he falls through the floor.

His frame stops falling once he hits the engine room. The dead frame of the sparkeater mockingly laughing at him. He didn’t know why he stopped falling but he was glad he did, he didn’t want to drift through space, alone. But he was alone, no one his friend his crew couldn’t see him.

“Why?” he cries out. “why did this happen; is this some cosmic revenge for Nyon? For being a failed Prime?” he wails as his legs slowly become transparent. He laughs weakly, “my lot in life. Started out invisible, I guess I’ll leave this world invisible.” He buries his helm in his hands.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there. His frame becoming more transparent as time went. “I’m not going to disappear here!” with some effort he stands on non-existent legs and tries to get back to the bridge.

By the time he made it the lower part of his frame was gone. His torso, arms, shoulders, and helm were still visible. Drift was still there but Magnus and Megatron were gone. Rodimus wanted to try one more thing.

However, “You can’t keep morning like this Drift,” Ratchet breezed through Rodimus. “Rodimus wouldn’t want you to keep morning him.”

Rodimus freezes, morning? Why was Drift morning him?

“I know that Ratch. But he was my friend, it was my fault that he died.” The swordsmech sighs, “sometimes I think I can still feel him.”

Shock wasn’t a word to describe what Rodimus was thinking. Dead; they believe he was dead?

“Drift,” he tries to shake his friend. “I’m right here. See I ain’t dead.” His hand's phase through armor. “I’m not dead,” he argues weakly.

“It wasn’t your fault. It was Rodimus being his irresponsible self,” Ratchet argues.

“I could have stopped him. I had a better chance of defeating that Sparkeater then him,” Drift argues back.

“Sparkeater? I survived that! See! Drift!”

“I’m not going to argue with you about this,” Ratchet sighs. “come on, you need rest.”

“I rested enough.” Drift mutters but lets the medic steer him towards the door.

Rodimus watches as Drift lets the medic drag him off the bridge. The bridge fills with mummers of the on-shift crew. He ignores that, still in shock. Looking down, his arms were gone his torso was gone. Yet he didn’t feel dead.

“Please,” he whispers to empty air as the rest of him disappears. “see me.”


	2. Ghostly Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz finally has a home to call his own. It just that the realtor forgot to mention that the original owners hadn't left.

Jazz dumped that last of his boxes in his dusty new house. It had taken him vorns to afford a place of his own. No more living in rusty apartments in the gutters of Polihex. No more standing on corners waiting for mechs and femmes to drop a little shanix in his harp case. No more Enforcers busting him for buskin without a permit. Really, they should make those more affordable if they didn’t want mechs playing on the sidewalks.

Anyway, Jazz had lucked out when finding this place. the irony was that it uses to belong to Praxis’s Lord of Law thousands of vorns ago. It fell into Polihex’s greedy hands when then mech was assassinated, betrayed by a brother. The Enforcers used it as their own little place until all their little naughty habits came to life. The current Enforcer Command wanted to wash their hands of it.

Jazz had snatched it up paid in full and now he was the proud owner of an old leaky wreck of a house. He had big plans for the building. The main room was huge with high ceilings and big windows. Off to the side of that was a smaller room that perfect for his studio. The kitchen was small, enough room for an oven, refrigerator, sink, and a small two chair table.

Jazz shrugs, not like he was planning on cooking for a crowd. Or cook, his twin still teases him for his horrible excuse of cooking skills.

There was a grand staircase off to the side of the living room. There were a few broken and missing steps but nothing that he couldn’t fix. The upstairs was just as bad as the first floor. Two rooms and a wash rack. Jazz had taken the biggest room out of the two. Not out of choice mind you, he couldn’t get into the other room. It was boarded up with six planks of steel. He wasn’t sure if the Enforcers had done it or it had been there.

Granted he didn’t know much of the house history only what was told to him. But then he really didn’t care too much about thousand vorn old dead mechs. So long as he didn’t find rusted out gray frames, he was good.

“Welp, better get unpacking,” he reaches for one of the big boxes, then looks over to the studio room. “or…we can make this place sound more welcoming.” He smiles taking his favorite electric brass guitar.

As the orns went, the house slowly began to look less like a derelict piece of slag to more like it is going to fall on your helm piece of slag. Most didn’t see the difference, but Jazz could. He didn’t have to worry about falling through the floor. The holes in the walls were patched and five out of the ten steps needing repairs were fixed.

Now he just needed to get running water to the washracks and he’ll be good. But first, he wanted to satisfy his curiosity. Standing in front of the boarded-up room Jazz tossed his hammer in the air. “Let see what’s behind door number one.” The bolts holding the boards were stubborn and had bent two hammers.

Jazz growls when the last one was being very stubborn. “Come on you rusted piece of junk.” The board groans as Jazz pulls the bolt. Until…

_ Creak Bamm! _

The board falls with a crash and the door opens. Jazz is hit by an ice-cold wind sending him to his aft. When it died down Jazz peeks into the room. He was confused, outside he remembers seeing a window but looking inside the room there was no window. No vents, so where did that blast of wind come from?

Finding no answer Jazz shrugs it off as nothing and continues to explore the new space. There were covered furniture covered in layers of dust. The air smelled stale, there wasn’t any evidence of mechs using this room in a long time. The walls were peeling there were signs of some type of infestation, the thought made Jazz shivered. Jazz figured that a repaint and adding a new window would make the room a nice guest bedroom. After having the house sprayed for scraplets and other pests.

When having the house looked over by a contractor, they found the missing window. Someone had closed it off from the inside. Jazz wondered why someone would do that but again shrug it off. After getting a plan mapped out and with the Contractors blessing Jazz was ready to start remolding.

The first set back happens when he had started removing old paint from the upstairs room. His scrapper and tray went missing. No biggie, he must have misplaced it, there were other projects that needed his attention.

Working on the plumbing was hard. Twice Jazz was sprayed in the face before he got the pipe tight. But soon he had hot running water. Then the second set back happens, as Jazz was enjoying the hot water it suddenly turns icebox cold. Sending him cursing out of the racks and bundling up in his fluffiest blanket meant for the coldest parts of the vorn.

“Frag it,” Jazz cursed between shivers. He checks the heater; it was working nothing was wrong. “Why the ice shower then.” He checks the shower again; it was running hot and didn’t turn back cold. Sighing Jazz would have to call someone to check it out if it continued to act up.

The third thing to happen was when he was on a ladder fixing a leak. One minute he was staring up at the roof the next he was staring at the wall that was behind him. But there was no pain, he knew he should be in pain from such a fall. A light breeze, that smelled like finely crushed crystals, drifted around him.

Looking around Jazz felt someone had caught him. Only he was the only one in the house.

After that, things went downhill. Jazz started feeling like the house was dark, menacing. His recharge was filled with nightmares. He would start to hear noises, footsteps some heavy some light. Parts of the house he stops going in because of the feeling of anger and hatred. The only place he felt safe was the kitchen and the studio. 

He started recharging in the studio.

When Ricochet came for a visit Jazz was near his breaking point. Seeing the state of his brother Ricochet took Jazz out of the house for a night on the town. Jazz was feeling more like himself until they had to go back to his nightmare of a house.

“Why don’t ya sleep in ya room?” Ricochet asks when seeing were Jazz was recharging.

“Can’t,” the silver mech mutters.

“What; berth too hard? Too hot?” Ricochet tilts his helm. “Your frame will hate you from sleeping on the floor.”

“Not the worst place I recharged.”

The red poly sighs, “Want to recharge with me?” an offer that hasn’t been given since they reached youngling hood. Stating that they had been too old for such sparkling actions.

Jazz look like he was going to be mulish about it. His shoulder drooped with exhaustion. He nods, the comfort of a berth, and the closeness of his twin sounded like heaven. He fell into recharge quickly after curling up next to his twin.

The first half of the night was quiet, Jazz was deep in recharge lulled by his brother field. Ricochet was sleeping on top of him like he used to when their creators would argue and the sounds of things being thrown scared the young sparklings.

_ BAM _

The twins shot up out of the berth. Jazz had one of his blades drawn Ricochet aimed his sidearm. The room was quiet.

_ BAM BAM CRASH _

The sound made them jump. It was coming from Jazz’s room across the hall. It sounded like there was someone fighting in his room. When he and Ricochet open the door, the sounds stop. His room looked like he had left it. Nothing was broken.

_ Thud thud thud BOOM! _

The twins whirled around shadows danced in their peripheral vision. Someone somehow got by them and was running down the stairs. Something sounded like a body was being tossed. They silently followed the sounds to the main room. Nothing had been disturbed, but they could hear voices, shuffling.

Ricochet was near the top of the stairs, Jazz on the bottom. When Jazz turned to his twin he froze. Behind his brother, a mass of shadows gathered. Jazz’s frame wouldn’t obey him as he tried to warn his twin. He mentally struggles against the force holding him still. Ricochet stared confused at his brother.

Then…

Jazz watched as his twin fell forward. If he couldn’t reach him Ricochet would be seriously injured or worst. But no matter how much he fought he couldn’t get free. Something touched his back shoving him forward under his twin. They fell together Jazz softening Ricochets landing.

“What the frag!”

Run, Jazz hears someone, run, it keeps repeating in his audio.

“Don’t talk just run,” he yells as the room is filled with writhing shadows and cold winds.

They raced out the door followed by a scream of pain and the sound of a blaster discharge. Outside they vented hard as stressed systems tried to normalize. When they looked back at the house, Jazz stares in shock. A mass stood at the door, there was no shape just a mass of darkness. Jazz shivered and it wasn’t because of the cold. The mass screamed danger.

“Who’s that?” Ricochet asks pointing to the window in the kitchen.

Jazz slowly turns his helm towards the kitchen windows. He stares slacked jaw at the shining figure. Just as the dark mass he couldn’t tell the shape other then he wasn’t getting the same feeling. He looks back at the door and the dark mass was gone.

“Frag it!”

Jazz snaps his helm towards his brother thinking that something happened.

“It’s gone!”

“What’s gone?”

“look.”

Jazz looked at the house again and blinked behind his vizor. The shining mass was gone just like the dark mass. “Where?”

“Jazz I love ya bro, but I ain’t staying in a haunted house,” Ricochet says. He gave his twin a worried look, “Please come with me. You can resell the house and wash your hands of it.”

“Ric-

“This is too much.”

The yard was silent, the brothers were staring at each other too stubborn to back down. “Ric…I can’t,” Jazz said.

Ricochet vents angrily, “Fine, then don’t come crying when those ghosts ruin your life.” The red poly turns transforming and driving away.

Jazz watches him a feeling of sadness making his audio horns droop. Not wanting to be chased out of his home he stubbornly walks back inside. It was quiet, the oppressing feeling wasn’t around he could vent like normal. He retreated to his studio where he felt the safest. Taking out his harp he started strumming. The sound of the instrument made him feel relax. As the song went on, he felt a presence, not like the one he felt before. This one was like a protective blanket, a soft breezed that carried that pressed crystal scent. It wasn’t the first time he felt it though at the beginning he thought it had been his imagination. Now, he knew he might have been wrong.

Still playing Jazz decided to stop being afraid, “I like to see my audience. Can you…can you show me who you are?”

Nothing happened at first, then a light mist began to form in front of him. That mist started taking shape, broad wings and chest, tires as heels, and a red chevron. Jazz was curious who this mech was. As the details started showing Jazz saw the mechs rank and occupation.

“You…are-were that Lord of Law that was murdered here!” He stares into golden optics.

The mech stares back confused, “…” he scowls when no sound came out.

“Uh…try again mech. You might be out of practice after being alone for so long.”

The mech tries again, nothing.

Jazz clicks his glossia, “well, not what?”

_ BAM BAM BAM _

The white and black mech turns sharply, signaling for Jazz to stay before phasing out.

“Yeah, not this time mech.”

Jazz opens the door just in time to duck as a vase comes flying at him. He rolls behind a stack of boxes he had yet to unpack. Peeking out he sees his mystery mech grappling with another darker copy of him. only this one had red optics and was nothing but shadows, evil poured from him. Instinct was pushing Jazz back into the safety of the studio, but Jazz was never one to listen to instinct, most of the time.

He jumps up when they released each other, “Hey!” both spirits looked at him, “Get lost mech, this is my house now and you ain’t welcome!”

The dark mech sneer and growled.

“Go away!”

The shining mech came to stand in front of Jazz, a shield. The dark mech growls then shriek, Jazz had to cover his sensitive audios from the onslaught. The sound rattles his struts primal fear races through his frame. He cries out.

Curled up as he was, he didn’t see his savor barreling into his darker copy. Or the fight then ensued, he could hear it, feel the high-pitched winds ripping at his plating. Then…nothing. The wind disappeared, the sounds stop, the overall feeling changed. Jazz didn’t uncurl until he got his ventilations back under control. When he looked up, the room was a mess, but the feeling of the whole building had changed.

Something had changed. But what?

He was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. He just lays there taking in the feeling of the house. It felt like new like his.

“recharging on the floor will do you no favors,” a deep voice suddenly says.

Jazz jerks leaping to his feet and falling into a crouch. He only relaxes when he sees an enforcer, “sorry officer, did the neighbors complain?”

The mech looks confused, “there are no neighbors close enough to hear anything.”

Jazz nervously laughs, “right right the nearest is…miles…away.”

The mech stands proudly before him, “it is good to finally speak to you, my name is Prowl.”

“J-J-Jazz,” he feels faint, “and you’re one of the ghosts?”

Prowl merely tilts his helm, “correct. Though Barricade won’t be bothering you again. I must thank you for helping me defeat him.”

Jazz vocalizer clicked once, twice. Then the floor is rushing up to him and he knows nothing.


	3. The Mirror pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverbolt stared at the mirror, he wished he hadn't and yet he is glad he did.

Silverbolt could not believe his brothers sometimes. He would expect this type of thing from Fireflight, Sky Dive, maybe even Air Raid if he's in the mood. Not Slingshot. That brother would snark, tease, make rude jokes, about this sort of thing. The smallest of the group had gone out and bought a large full-length mirror and placed it in Silverbolts room. No explanation or anything just placed it in the corner and left with a scowl.

It was a fancy piece or use to be. The gold looked tarnish, there were holes in certain places suggesting that something used to be there, there was red faded swirls that crossed and a giant stain on the back. The large flyer didn’t want to know what that was. He thought it might have been pretty, once. With a sigh, he goes to find the rest of his family.

He was an orphan and had been taken in by an old couple. A medic named Ratchet and Wheeljack his mate. He wasn’t the only one to be taken in, just the newest and the youngest. There were ten of them in all plus Ratchet and Wheeljack. The oldest was Hot Spot, he was the first to be adopted by the couple. Next came StreetWise and Blades followed by Air Raid and Fire Flight. Skydive was found by Wheeljack sometime later. Slingshot had been brought to them by Enforcers. First Aid had been found by Ratchet after being abandoned at the hospital as a youngling. Silverbolt had been the last to be taken in, he couldn’t remember his original family. Just that he been living on the streets before Ratchet found him in the dumpster digging for leftovers. He remembers fearing the mech who was growling at his condition. His wings were in a poor state as was the rest of his frame.

He had run then and didn’t see the mech again until a few weeks later. It had been cold that orn and he had tried to keep warm. When Ratchet had found him with the help of an Enforcer he had been covered in frost. He had woken confused and warm and he didn’t hurt anymore. Fire Flight had snuck in during that time and snuggled into his larger frame. Silverbolt hadn’t known what to do with the affection, he cried. Which caused Fire Flight to chirp in confusion and brought Ratchet and Wheeljack running. It had taken more than a vorn before he felt like family to this eccentric family.

Most mechs had often confused him with being the oldest based on his maturity and size. But Silverbolt was the youngest, as for his size, Ratchet had explained that. He had said that his spark had been too big for his small frame. So, when he had recovered from vorns of malnutrition, he had been upgraded. Most of those third frame youngling systems had been taken offline until the rest of him caught up. That and his alt-mode was larger than a jet but smaller than a shuttle.

Thinking about now he suspected that the mirror was a gift. He was close to being upgraded to his adult frame in a few orns. Hot Spot and a few others had already moved out, though First Aid came over more often being Ratchets apprentice and were coming back to celebrate the occasion. The other jets, Fire Flight, Air Raid, Sky Dive, and Slingshot had stayed even after their upgrades. Silverbolt wasn’t sure why but didn’t question it since Ratchet and Wheeljack hadn’t seemed to mind.

Now, the house was filling back up and Silverbolt was staring at the mirror. With a flick of his wings, he tosses a sheet over it. He may not like it, but he was going to thank his brothers with a smile. He might give it away when no one was looking. He wasn’t one for big ornate mirrors, he was fine with the small one in the wash racks.

“A proper mirror for a flyer,” a voice from the doorway had Silverbolt flinching. Looking over his wings he hid a sigh at the mech.

Starscream was one of Ratchets and Wheeljack's strange friends. They weren’t friends but they weren’t enemies if that made sense. He had had a lot of opinions on how Silverbolt and the other flyers had been raise. Silverbolt couldn’t figure out if the mech didn’t like him Starscream seems to always have this air of disgust whenever he was around. Like he wasn’t measuring up to what a flyer should be. Ratchet had waved off the concern stating it was just Starscream and ignore it.

“Shame that it looks to be a piece of scrap,” the red mech came over and yanked that sheet off. “at least now you can see what everyone else can see.”

Silverbolt scowls at the flyer, “and what is everyone seeing?”

Starscream turns and gives a fake smile, “that you are a mistake.” He leaves the younger flyer alone in the room in shock.

Wheeljack came for him later and Silverbolt expertly hid the turmoil emotions he was feeling. He had gotten good at hiding his emotions over the vorns. “Ready, Ratchets waiting for us at the hospital.”

“Y-yeah.”

The side panels lit up with pride before shifting to surprise, “when do you get this?” he walks over to the mirrors.

“Slingshot.”

“Ah,” Wheeljack looks over the mirror, “it needs some TLC, I can help you with that.”

“Uh, maybe later Wheeljack.”

The inventor tilts his helm, “you don’t like it?”

Silverbolt gives the mirror another look, “it’s not me.”

Optics twinkle in amusement, “true but Slingshot went through the trouble…”

Wings droop, “I guess I could keep it. Maybe repaint it.” He touches the mirror. His frame seizes joints locking. It felt like a long amount of time had passed before he can jerk his hand back with a yelp. Wheeljack was there instantly holding his burning hand.

Even if his hand felt like it was on fire there were no burn marks. There was a long slice of energon flowing quickly from the deep cut. Wheeljack takes him into the wash racks, confusion filled his field when under the yellow light of the racks.

There was no cut. The energon was still there but the cut was gone. Silverbolt knew that it had been there, Wheeljack saw too. “Strange,” the inventor mutters.

Either way, his hand was clean and they left for the hospital. His brothers flew formation around him with Starscream leading the way. Wheeljack followed on the ground along with Hot Spot and the others. Ratchet was waiting for him along with a few others who helped Silverbolt get ready for the transfer. They had him look over his new frame before being placed in stasis.

What no one knew back at the house at the same time as Silverbolts spark was transferred. The mirror in his room started to glow, a wind blew anything lightweight around. The gold began to shine like new, the holes filled with fire rubies and gold topaz’s that glowed with its own fire. The red swirls bleed back to deep crimson. They seemed to move around the mirror frame before the glass itself shimmered. The plane contracted and protracted until it concaved into a swirling vortex. The sound of glass shattering filled the house. Two forms stood in the center of the room optics glowing purple in the dim light.

Then…

They were gone as a tired Silverbolt was helped back into his room. He and Air Raid stared in shock at the mess of shatter glass. The red and white flyer yelled for his brothers and caretakers. They scowled at the mess; Ratchet took Silverbolt after the newly up-graded mech got a verbal lashing from Slingshot. Wheeljack had quietly said that the mirror had been whole when they had left. While the mess was cleaned up and Wheeljack promising a new plane of glass. Silverbolt was told to rest in one of the brother’s rooms.

Silverbolt didn’t have the strength to argue, everything hurt. Ratchet assured that that was normal, and rest would help. Since Hot Spot and the others no longer lived in the house, he took his room. The berth was big enough to support his new large frame. He fell into recharge listening to his brothers argue about something.

Later in the night as the house recharged. Two figures stood at the foot and the side of the berth that Silverbolt slept on. A red mech and a golden mech stared down at the sleeping flyer. “This is different,” the red mech snickers.

“And how is this something to laugh about,” the gold one snarls.

“We got freed by a flyer Sunny. His mech blood stained our prison,” the red mech turns purple optics on his look-a-like. “You know what that means.”

The gold one sneers, though there was no hostility behind it, “I know what it means Sideswipe.” He stills when the young mech mummers something curling up under the blanket. They both sighed when the mech didn’t wake.

“I think its exciting,” Sideswipe starts reaching towards the flyer. “We found him, after all this time.”

His red arm was grabbed by a gold one, “No.”

“What; why?” Sideswipe blinks up at his twin. “Sunstreaker we lost him once, he’s right here. Why-

“Do you want to lose him again,” Sunstreaker asks? “If they find him again because we were reckless.” He lets it hang. The idea of the memory of what had happened before they had been sealed away millions of vorns ago sat heavily between them.

“So what?”

“We wait,” Sunstreaker lets go of his brother’s arm. “We go forward carefully. Right now, he’s vulnerable.”

Sideswipe sighs, “alright,” he traces Silverbolts face.

Silverbolt jolts upright venting quickly. He wildly looks around the room slumping when he found himself alone. His large wings shake at the memory of two mechs standing over. He concluded that it was just a weird dream and tried to go back into recharge. There was a party tomorrow and it would be bad if he were late for his own party. As he slept a symbol began to form on his shoulder, the armor simi-soft from the transfer gave as the symbol etched itself. By morning it was a slight impression easily overlooked. No one noticed it, no mirrors showed it except the crystal plane now occupying the gold mirror.


	4. Jar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl now knows that the old stories have some truth to them. He finds out what the seekers are planning to do with him and the other captives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally written this last year for Halloween. I decided to continue it. I just don't know where it's going.

Prowl didn’t know how long they had been imprisoned. He knew that his neighbors had been there longer. Stuck in their jar in a fortune teller’s transport he couldn’t tell how much time passed since the Seekers had imprisoned him. He didn’t know why they were chosen, only that Starscream and his trine took certain mechs.

Prowl feared what their purpose was. Magic had been outlawed centuries ago by Guardian Prime. Smokescreen, the only mech who talked to him, explained that being a professor at Praxis University. He would have thought that either of them would be missed by now. His fellow Enforcers would be looking for them.

Then he remembered how Starscream made Bluestreak’s carrier forget about him. Made her think that she had lost the bitlit in emergence. Bluestreak hadn’t understood why only that his carrier left him and didn’t look back. He had gone silent since.

The idea that these three could easily erase them was terrifying. Prowl had to stop thinking about it less he crashed. He hadn’t wanted to leave himself vulnerable like that. He knew that trying to push the jar off the shelf was futile, others had tried none had so much as budge the glass. After he and Bluestreak had been taken, the seekers packed up and the transport moved. Prowl knew they were leaving Praxis, the other femmes and mechs sat quietly in despair.

The whole disturbing part, in Prowl's opinion, was that the seekers took turns coming by grinning at their collection. Skywarp took some of the jars and terrorized those insides. Thundercracker while not as sadistic took pleasure in messing with the mechs. Smokescreen being one of the newest was his current object of harassment. Prowl made sure that Bluestreak wasn’t looking like the older mech was played with. Tried to cover small audios from the sounds of an unwanted overload.

The sparkling clung to him fear permeating his field.

Starscream ignored the others in the collection, his focus was mainly on Prowl. Only Prowl. The Enforcer began to believe they took Bluestreak to keep him in line. Prowl gritted his denta, it had work, Prowl dare not do anything to bring harm to the sparkling. Once they stopped that changed. Before Prowl could move Starscream plucked Bluestreak out of his arms, he ignored the sparklings cries of fear as he tossed the mechling into Smokescreens jar.

“Your turn Officer Prowl,” the fortune-teller picks Prowls jar up and they walk out of the transport. Prowl had a second glance to see Smokescreen trying to comfort Bluestreak before the door slams shut. Outside, there was a ring of fire and the other two seekers sat waiting, watching.

Prowl had no warning as he suddenly dropped out of the jar. He cried out in surprise, as the floor dropped out from under him. “Going to put on a show Starscream?”

Prowl snaps his helm up, the seekers no longer towered over him. He was back to being his normal size. He reacted before thinking, charging at the grinning seeker. He grunted as his frame was slammed back to the ground then flipped on his back doors splayed out.

Starscream was chuckling his red optics glowing unnaturally. “Such fire, you’ll feed me for vorns. Or…” he straddles Prowls hips, “until you break.”

Prowl struggle to throw the flyer off him. Starscream snaps his fingers the sound echoing in the clearing. Prowl watches in shock as his armor flies off his frame exposing his protoform to sharp digits. Those claws felt like fire being traced over him. His frame reacting against him as it arched into the touch.

“So reactive, my my no one has touched you before.” The seeker leans down glossia lapping his protoform. “a fine feast for me, pure mechs are always so delicious the first time.”

Prowl shook his helm, this was wrong. He didn’t want this not like this. Through coolant filled optics he saw Starscream sucking up a fuzzy light. The light clung to his frame before the seeker came down sucking it through overly long fangs. Prowl began to feel weak, drain. His frame however still reacted to the seekers' touch. It was like watching from outside his body.

He was being violated both physically and spiritually. Suddenly, he knew what the seekers were. Monsters from ancient stories.

“Suc-succubus,” he whispers once Starscream finished feeding off him.

The trine laughs, “figured it out already,” the red seeker coos. Mockingly petting Prowls helm, “well you’re not wrong. But only half right.”

“While feeding on you, using your frame like a toy is enjoyable. We have plans that will be fulfilled and you’re going to help us.” Thundercracker says.

“But your more useful as payment.”

“Payment?” Prowl vents heavily. His frame shivered still under Starscreams thrall.

“Yessss,” Starscream snaps his digits again. Prowl collapse back into his jar still missing his armor. “Don’t worry though. Your fate is different than the others. You and three others, we have something special in mind.”

Prowl didn’t have the energy to respond and fell unconscious. When he woke, he was still without armor but Bluestreak was sitting next to him fretting. He opened his arms letting the sparkling dive between them shaking crying.

“He was upset.”

His helm felt heavy, but he manages to turn. He blinks in surprise, Bluestreak was not the only one sharing the jar anymore. Smokescreen and a purple femme were also there. Smokescreen sat behind Bluestreak the femme however, ignored them all. She didn’t acknowledge them staring blankly out through the glass.

“Understatement,” Prowl croaked. He squints at the other mech. He too was missing his armor as was the femme. Bluestreak was the only one still wearing his. “Figured out who they are.”

Smokescreen tilts his helm back, “yeah.” He looked like Prowl felt, “the blue one drew it out. The purple one takes the femme. She’s unresponsive. I fear that she’s been with them longer.”

Prowl never saw her before now so he couldn’t confirm Smokescreens' statement. “Any idea what they have planned?”

The mech huffs, he was silent before speaking, “according to the myths they’ll either breed us or eat us. But these three are acting outside that. We have been singled out and that concerns me.”

“Yes, they made it sound like…” Prowls helm began to hurt. “Like a sacrifice. They said something about payment.”

“That’s not good.”

They both turned as the femme began to mutter. They couldn’t understand the words but a few managed to be cleared.

“……shadow…...light…..army……Demon Lord…….Prime……………smirking Witch………”

She kept repeating herself until they tuned her out. Prowl shivered and used what was left of his strength to pull him and Bluestreak up next to Smokescreen. The mech tensed at first, but like Prowl, he was chilled. The heat from their combined frames was enough to keep them and the sparkling warm. He relaxed as they curled up against each other. Sometime during the night, the seekers came back in and started taking the jars out. One at a time.

When the trio online, half the shelves were empty and Starscream stood before them grinning. He held up a clock and placed it in front of the tiny mechs jar. “Tick-tock,” was all he said before disappearing back outside.

Silence, then the screams. Bluestreak cried out clinging to Prowl as he and Smokescreen tried to shield the mechling. The femme began to cackle insanely holding her exposed middle.

“Its time its time the Demon Lord arrives, born under Unicron's moon!” she laughs singing. “Primus’s Chosen and Blessed will fall, bearing forth the dark army!” And on and on she cackled until Smokescreen hit her over the helm knocking her out.

Prowl stared wide optic at the unconscious femme then to Smokescreen. Smokescreen's look matched his own. They clung to each other the screams following them into their minds. They felt helpless as the jar darken oppressing them until they couldn’t take it.

With Bluestreak between them, the three mechs fell into stasis. Hoping that this was just a long nightmare that they will wake up from. Only deep down, they knew that it was all real.


	5. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Alert knows he sees something on his security feeds. but he is the only one who sees them.

Red Alert frowned at the screen. Ever since onlining on Earth and setting his security perimeter he had noticed something odd. It was barely a flicker; one could almost miss it. But ever so often he would see something moves. It was not an Autobot, Decepticon, nor human. It moved oddly, the shape was wrong, and it always lingered in the edges of the camera's view. At first, he had thought it was Jazz and his group of troublemakers. Or those pit spawn twins messing with him again.

Looking at the multiple screens, however, everyone was at a different part of the ARK. After seeing that he had every single camera taken apart and checked for glitches. Nothing. His paranoia was getting the better of him and Ratchet was looking at him strangely.

Even as he showed the evidence none saw what he did. Optimus had suggested gently that he take some time off. Ratchet had backed him up on that. But Red Alert could not; would not let it die. So, against orders, he stood watching the feeds. Over the next few days, he hadn’t seen the first one.

They were mocking him; he just knew it.

“Red?” Inferno's calm voice startles him.

The red and white Lamborghini whirls around, “Their there I know it!”

“I believe ya Red,” the firetruck holds his hands out. “But ya need to rest.”

“No, not until I know what they are and if they are a threat,” he turns away back to the camera screens.

He hears his friend sigh hears his leave the room. It was better this way, Inferno meant well but he didn’t believe him. No one believed him. but soon, soon they will.

It was near three in the morning Earth time when he saw it. A large dark mass hovering in the center of the main hall. “Inferno!”

“Red?”

“Main Hall, unknown entity!”

“Decepticon?”

“Unknown, quickly before it vanishes!”

Klaxons echo, Autobots scramble thinking that the ARK had been invaded. Red Alert optics darted, they flicked from one screen to the next. “What; where?”

“Red, where is this entity you saw?” Infernos' voice snapped him out of his frantic search, “there’s no one here.”

“I…”

“Red?”

“I…I…There! Inferno, it's right there!”

“Where Red, we don’t see anything.”

“But-

“Red Alert,” Prowls calm even tone interrupted him. “Report to the Med Bay.”

“But-

“That’s an order Red Alert.”

Red Alert clenched his denta, he felt one crack from the force. “Yes Sir,” he grits out through clench denta. Through the camera lens, he saw the Praxian nod.

Ratchet was waiting for him outside the MedBay. Ironhide and Inferno were with him. Nothing was said as they boxed him in and lead him into a berth in the back. Ratchet pulls a privacy screen around them; he could see Inferno’s outline.

He wouldn’t look at the medic as he muttered at a scanner. He stared at his hands, at the floor, at the shadows…wait. His horns sparked; his helm snapped up following a mist drifting from the floor to the ceiling.

He screeched as two red orbs peered out of it at him. Ratchet teleported to this side fighting to hold him down. He was shouting, pointing at the ceiling. Why was no one else seeing this; it was right there! More hands were on him holding him down as his shouting drew more attention, his optics bleached white, and a lightning storm between his horns.

He wrestles free and runs. He bangs into walls into mechs randomly running without a direction. He ignored the shouts the yells, he had to get away.

Get away get away getawaygetawaygetaway safe safesafesafesafesafe need safe!

Then he’s falling, down down until he lands with a bang. He laid there in a daze, it was quiet, but the brightness of the lights was hurting his optics.

Lights?

He snapped his optics open, there shouldn’t be any lights this far down. Slowly he stood on wobbly legs. He didn’t know this room, there shouldn’t be a room this far down. Everywhere he looks it was nothing but bright lights.

What concerned him was that he saw no shadows beside his own. His shadow stood out, but something was off. Shadows he was sure shouldn’t be like that. Turning away he focused on something to do while he quieted his aching mind.

He didn’t see his own shadow wavier contort then bulge outward. When he did notice it was when dark hands tighten their hold over his throat. His yell cut off as the mass swirled around him facing him with a sinister smirk and glowing red eyes. His comms crackled with static when he franticly tried to call out to Inferno. Each channel was static, white noise. And the voices that he did hear did not belong to anyone he knew.

He fights to free himself fighting off unconsciousness. He pushes everything into getting free. His helm is pounding as his vision starts to blacken around the edges. Red Alert hears the voices again telling him to let go. That he could rest when he wanted, no worry, no paranoia just quiet darkness. He feels his body fall limp his hands fall from their gripping clenching grasp.

His shadow stretches out taking over the room eating away the light. He only flinches when ice-cold hits him. His smirk widens unnaturally stretching as it lowers him into the inky darkness. Red Alert doesn’t fight when the shadows start swallowing his peds or when it reaches his hips.

He only reacts when Inferno's voice reaches him. He jerks his helm back, he didn’t imagen it, Inferno is right there, behind him. Now the shadows were at his shoulders they cling to his outstretched arm. Inferno leaps at him his orange arm reaching for his.

_Heh heh heh_

The last thing Inferno hears; is Red Alert shriek of fear as he is swallowed by his own shadow. Inferno stares in shock as the shadow disappears. The room is filled with Autobots, Prowl and Optimus Prime are demanding a report Red Alerts whereabouts.

In the chaos, no sees Infernos shadow wavier and darken or the glowing red eyes grinning up at him.


	6. Witch Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl had always been told never be out alone during Unicorns Moon. He really should have listened.

Prowl looked out over the valley to the top part of the ridge. Every year on the same night a red light would appear. Prowl had been warned by his creators never to go there during that time. They had told him that the witches would take him away if he was out during that time of night. As a sparkling, Prowl believed them and stayed inside with his window locked and shutters closed. He would hide under the covers putting as many layers between him and the witches as he could.

Now as an adult and part of the Enforcer corps. Prowl no longer believed in the Witches. He now believes that it was normal mechs partying. There was no law that was against partying that far out of the city. Yet they were never asked to do a welfare check. Prowl had asked this but had been waved at and ordered to focus on his patrol.

His route took pass an overlook that looked out over the ridge. The twin moons were high and full and there was a chill in the air. Prowl stared out a few moments longer before turning to leave.

“Good evening Officer,” a silver mech says. The mech glides over and stands next to Prowl keeping a respectable distance from his door wings. “A lovely night isn’t it?”

Prowl unfroze himself; he hadn’t noticed the mech sneak up behind him. “It is,” he answers.

Prowl watched the mech look out towards the red light. He was hesitant about leaving the mech too many strange things happen on nights like this. Normal mechs tend to go overbroad in their actions, but he still had a patrol to complete.

“You stop here a lot,” the mech comments. Still looking out over the valley.

Prowl’s wings fly up, “excuse me?” he knew that no one lived around here. The overlook was part of the crystal forest road.

The mech chuckles, “I notice ya come here a lot. The same time each year,” the silver mech white visor glows brightly. “what draws your optics I wonder?”

“Just curious,” Prowl felt tense a tugging feeling at the back of his mind. He felt ready to bolt, something screamed at him to run. “I…I only wish to make sure those mechs partying remind safe.”

The silver mech tilts his helm, “partying?” he smiles, “I see don’t believe in the old tales then?”

Prowl snorts before jerking, “sorry.” Something was tugging at his mind. He shakes his helm to get rid of the feeling.

The silver mech waves him off, “no worries mech,” he snickers. “we all have our opinions.”

Prowl flicks his wings, “I use to believe when I was younger. But not now.”

“Ah.” The silver mech looks at him, “you think it’s a party out there then; I guess that’s another way of seeing it.”

Before Prowl could move the silver mech was in front of him, “I can show ya if you wish, what goes on out there.” He trailed his claws suggestively on Prowl's bumper.

Did Prowl want to go out there? Looking at that mech in personal space then out at the ridge; no, he really didn’t. “maybe some other time.” He took the mech's hand and removed them from his person.

The silver mech pouts, “Too bad. I could guarantee a good time.” Sensor horns wiggle.

“Some other time, I must get back to my shift,” Prowl tried to step away. He blinks in confusion when his frame doesn’t obey him.

The mech before him sighs, “you’re a stubborn one. Normally I can get anyone to do what I want.” White visor tilts up at him, sensory horns flick in mirth. “You have been fighting my spell, interesting.”

Silver claws gently tilt Prowl helm back. The other hand rubs his hip, a silver leg wraps around his other hip. “I will need to use more drastic measures.”

Prowl gave a muffled protest when silver lips closed over his. Somehow the mech was able to hold them up when Prowls frame grew weak. His mind was getting fuzzy, he was unable to think coherently. The silver mech only breaks the kiss when Prowl went completely limp.

“Still fighting my charm mech?” he stared down at the now miniature Enforcer.

Prowl laid in the mechs palm panting. He had enough processor power to see that the mech, who before the kiss had been shorter than him. Now towered over him with him small enough to fit in the mechs palm.

“Well, we have all night. You will change your mind once we get to the gathering. Maybe having you fully conscious will make this more fun.” Prowl weakly batted at the claw that tapped his chest. The mech chuckles, “oh yea my coven will be jealous.” He tilts his palm letting Prowl slide into a velvet bag, “maybe I can keep ya for later. I have extras that could be used.”

Prowl lands on top of another mech. He wasn’t alone yet unlike him everyone he glanced at had the look of bliss on their face. They weren’t aware of the danger they were in. He had enough of his processor to know that he was in deep trouble. Prowl whines as the bag close. He still couldn’t move or think clearly. Outside he heard the mech laugh as he moved. Prowls last thought before unconsciousness took him was that his creators had been right. He met a witch and had been taken. And no one would know until tomorrow afternoon.


	7. He Told Me To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak could always see him. No one else could see him. He was Bluestreak's first friend. He had been there for Bluestreak all the way to the end. 
> 
> what would you think if your Imaginary Friend wasn't so imaginary?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what this may look like. It was not my intention for this story to be about mental illness. It's about a Demon Prowl taking advantage of an innocent Bluestreak. 
> 
> If you get offended by this please don't read it.

Bluestreak first met Prowl when he could barely stand unassisted. His sparkling mind didn’t see the difference between the imaginary and reality. The black and white mech would stare at him yet his creators didn’t seem to care. He never touched him even when Bluestreak would wave his little arms at him. His creators couldn’t understand why he would suddenly cry.

When he upgraded to a youngling, he talked to Prowl. Mostly broken sentences until he learned more words. His creators gave him concerned looks when asked who he was talking to. Could they not see Prowl there? Prowl would talk softly to him some nights. Tell him stories and sometimes Bluestreak could get him to play fort with the berth sheets.

His femme creator would stand and stare when she came upon him having a full-length conversation to empty air. That was when Bluestreak heard the words, imaginary friend. Once he found out what that meant he argued that he hadn't made Prowl up.

“He’s sitting right there!” he pointed to an empty chair. They couldn’t see him.

“He’s an Enforcer; you can ask them.” He said another time when his other femme creator told him to stop making up lies.

Even his age mates didn’t believe, nor could they see him. Prowl was always there, to comfort him when he was scared. To help him work on his homework and to listen to him when he rambled. But sometimes he would break things and Bluestreak would get in trouble. There would be paint on the walls and Bluestreak would get blamed. Or Prowl would push one of his creators down the stairs.

When he got older his creators told him that he had to grow up and stop playing with his imaginary friend. He had heard them discussing him Bluestreak became upset then and stopped telling them about Prowl. Whenever he felt them near, he would stop playing and go hide. Prowl would tell him that they cared but would separate them when they thought Bluestreak sick in the helm. Bluestreak slowly stopped talking and withdrew into himself. He rebelled against his creators and only listened to Prowl.

When the relationship between his femme creators began to sour. Prowl started telling him it was his fault and that he should listen to him more. When his creators started fighting each other Prowl told him to get the knife to protect himself. If they were attacking each other then they’ll come after him he reasoned. Bluestreak couldn’t argue against that he had no reason not to believe Prowl. Prowl was his only friend.

He shakenly took the knife that was hidden under his creators’ pillow and held it tight. Prowl stood behind him his hands heavy on his small shoulders. He felt tired he always felt tired when Prowl touched him. Curling up Bluestreak, fell sideways as his creators screamed at each other. He woke up when a door slammed followed by a breaking bottle. Creator stormed into the room. Seeing the knife she screamed at him slamming the door and locking it. Bluestreak had to see a doctor after that, he became more withdrawn after that. 

Before he final upgrades, Bluestreak had been abandon by everyone but Prowl. They sent him away had strange mechs and femmes poke in the helm. He hated it, yet Prowl would always smile when Bluestreak screamed in pain or would say he hated them. Prowl began to whisper things to Bluestreak. To kill that femme, to kill that mech, to do this, and to do that. Bluestreak always kept a small sharp piece of metal on him. He hated them, hated his creators for abandoning him.

Why should he be the one to be punished?

Why should he always act like nothing is wrong?

Prowl said he could do this and feel great. Why was everyone being so noisy?

One day, Bluestreak listened to another mech talk about him. He hated it when they acted like he wasn’t there.

“You should make him stop talking Blue,” Prowl whispers. “Take his voice box out. It’s easy I’ll help you.”

Bluestreak blinked at eerie yellow optics, “then we can leave?”

Prowl nods, “of course, I’ll let you come live with me. Just like I promise.” His smile looked too big for his face. His optics too bright and his denta too sharp.

But Bluestreak didn’t care. Prowl always looked like that.

When the security mechs showed up after the All Call went out. they stood frozen at the energon splattered scene. Bluestreak had killed everyone in the room and left bloody footprints out the door. The following orns, the young mech went on a killing spree until cornered by Temple Enforcers. His last words, written in energon.

“Prowl told me too.”


	8. Fang New Life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak lived a long lonely life. Then he met Prowl and an opportunity pops up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...turned out weird.

Bluestreak had lived a long time. He had seen several empires built and fall. He had seen the greatest of mechs rise and die. He has seen the good and the evil of sparks; fed on a few of them. Had loved and lost; thankfully only two of those he had to kill himself. He could be mischievous and be kind, he was a hero one life than a villain the next. He sired a few mechs and femmes both mortal and not. One time he even shifted into a mist and pranked travelers. He lived as a felinenoid and caninus. Lived among the poor and was once a King. 

Bluestreak had lived a long time and he was tired.

He was tired of being lonely, always left behind by mortal and non-mortal friends and lovers. For once he wanted to have someone who would be with him for the rest of his immortal life. Sadly, that was a wish that would not come true. His kind was hated and hunted, or they use to be. Now a day’s vampires were nothing but a story. An easy topic to put on movie screens whether it was horror or romance. There were so few ancient ones like him. The younger ones were too bold and egotistical. Bluestreak himself had to put down a few before they exposed the ancient race.

But unlike the entertainment industry, they had one thing wrong about ancient vamps. Bluestreak never died, never risen from the grave. Bluestreak had been born to a living mech he had his fangs and shapeshifting abilities. The vampires that everyone in the present knew about were those that had been fed vampire blood. Some became mindless ghouls. There had been a few who became the bloodsuckers that everyone likes to write about. Special circumstances are required for that to happen though.

This life he decided to live as a sparkling. It was one of his easier forms to take, and no one gave him a second glance. Well almost no one, Bluestreak was becoming intrigued by an Enforcer mech that had been watching him. He had seen the mech around ever since settling down in Praxis. He stalked him while the mech was on dark cycle patrols. The few encounters they had the mech was always kind. Thinking that Bluestreak was an errant youngling out roaming around when he shouldn’t.

Bluestreak had entertained the idea of turning the mech, but he didn’t want to chance to lose him. That and he didn’t know what type of energon the mech had nor his name. So, he waited, kept his encounter short, gave a convincing story, and boom he was inside the mechs home.

Prowl, after introducing himself, had taken a shivering Bluestreak into his home. The vampire had to play it exactly right, Prowl was smarter than he looked. But his patience paid off, Prowl had fallen into a deep sleep. He shifted back into his original frame and straddled Prowls' hips. He places one hand over the mechs helm and pushed his consciousness deeper into recharge past the level of dreaming. He couldn’t have the mech online during this. Surprisingly, Prowls's mind was hard to command and Bluestreak had to be more forceful than usual.

Once he was sure Prowl wouldn’t be onlining anytime soon. He had the mech's frame open its chest plates exposing spark and the lines that fed it. It was tempting to sample that energon but Bluestreak squashed it. He could always taste it later…maybe before he left the mech. Shifting until he was both his spark and Prowls were line up Bluestreak pressed their frames together. Prowl’s memories flooded his mind, outside their frames arched. While Bluestreak went through who Prowl was his frame moved on autopilot.

He distantly heard Prowl moan as Bluestreak enter him, heard his moan when they climaxed hard. Just as he was coming down from his high, he bites into one of the sparklines. He moaned in pleasure from the taste of the energon and the mech below him.

He froze in shock, white optics glancing down at the unconscious mech. The taste was one he never tasted before. He suckled the line before letting it fall out of his mouth. He stared at the mech, at his spark, his sluggishly flowing energon, then his middle.

And smiled.

He heard of this, from the other ancients. Those who hadn’t been killed by hunters but refused to continue living a long, lonely life. An ancient spell, one where all requirements were hard to get. One that Bluestreak ticked off all the boxes. Here was his chance to live again, a redo if one will. A chance to be reborn a mortal. And it would give Prowl something that he wouldn’t get otherwise. Bluestreak saw this as a win-win.

Taking his energon he drew the symbols on Prowl protoform. The hard part was getting the words right and hoping Prowls frame not reject him. It was a warning to those who tried this, the frame could still reject them, and they would slowly die. He wrote symbols on his frame before starting the ritual.

He did his best to ignore Prowls cries as their frames began to glow. The soft gray protoform beneath him ripples and shifts as his own begins to shift to a mist. Prowl arches as the form above him melt into his frame. White optics staring at him lovingly before it melted. He shifts as his insides cramp as things shift and reconfigure.

He bolted out of bed and onto the floor. His weapon was out and pointed at the empty room. Prowl vents heavily as the memory purge leaves him. It had been a strange one and he quickly shook off the feeling it had created. He scowled at the mess on his berth and his frame. It must have been a very vivid dream if he reacted subconsciously. His spark was exposed, and his interface panel was open. As he stood, he stumbles, his frame felt heavy. But he knew he weighed no different than he did yesterday.

Looking through the apartment he grew concerned when the youngling he found was missing. He sighs, the mechling must have found out that he had called sparkling services. Prowl figured that he was back on the streets and was resigned that he may never see the mechling again.

Cleaning everything up he got ready for the orn. He was expecting someone later and wanted everything to look perfect. After all, it wasn’t every day that a mech welcomes home their highly ranked lover from a year long mission.

_ A few orns later… _

Prowl stared at the medic, Jazz stared at the medic, his lover had brought him to the clinic when Prowl had collapsed at work.

the medic continues to smile happily.

“…what?”

“Congratulations,” she smiles. “Your spark!”

Prowl and Jazz fainted. Deep inside the down mech a tiny old newspark happily orbits the larger spark.


	9. Waiting for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl didn't know what was worst. Crashing and being kidnapped by the mechs who caused it. Or crashing and being kidnapped by mechs who thought that he was their reincarnated lover.

Prowl glares at the trio of mechs before him. He had been involved in a pursuit with one of them when another sideswiped him. Prowl remembers falling off the steep hill and into the stream and he remembers transforming to his root mode. His comms were shot, his navigation didn’t work, and his frame ached. His leg had been twisted badly and wouldn’t bear his weight.

He crawled up the hill adding more dents and scratches to his battered frame. Prowl had grimaced at the thoughts of walking back to the station in his condition. Then, he was found by what he thought was a concerned citizen. The mech was a chatterbox, his innocence distracted Prowl. The two mechs that had caused him to crash had dropped behind him and knocked him out.

Now, they had him tied up and gagged. If looks could burn Prowl would’ve have turned the three mechs to ashes. The chatterbox was a Praxian like him in shades of gray with a red chevron. The other two he could see were twins, one red with audio horns and the other yellow with strange helm fins. They were all grinning at him.

His first thoughts were kidnapping and ransom. He did belong to a High Noble family, but if these three mechs thought they were getting anything they were mistaken. He had been disowned vorns ago for having illegitimate sparking. Prowl felt his wings jerk, his sparkling was waiting for him. Smokescreen would still be at the sparkling center. No one would think Prowl would be missing for joors. Did these kidnappers know of Smokescreen? Would his sparkling remain safe?

“He hasn’t changed in all these centuries,” the gray chatterbox says.

Yellow grunted, Red smiled; “yep.”

Prowl glared, “if it’s money you want. You picked the wrong mech.” To his surprise, the trio seemed amused, “No one will pay the ransom.”

Red leans down, “oh it’s not your money we want puppet.” Prowl froze when the red mech kisses him on the chevron.

Yellow walked behind him standing between his doors, “it's you.”

Prowl struggles, “I have not-

“We have been waiting for your spark to appear again.” Gray nuzzles his shoulder, “we waited so long. This time we won’t let anything happen again.”

“We won’t let you die by anyone’s hands again,” Red speaks into his neck causing him to shiver.

Prowl mentally freaked out. He got kidnapped by a bunch of lunatics. He had to escape before they make him disappear into their twisted fantasy world. He didn’t want to play dress up and tied to a chair in front of some tea set as they played house.

Yellow chuckles, “you got some imagination there.”

“Though I think dressing you up in our colors would make you look stunning.”

“St-stop,” Prowl whines as the three mechs rub, nuzzle, and lavash attention on him. Think of something he yelled at himself. Pictures of little Smokescreen, images of himself before his sparkling emerge, his first words, and his first steps.

Prowl had tightly shut his optics, he only opened them when he felt shocked from the three mechs. Chancing a glance, he shyly looked at each mech. Yellow was scowling, Gray was staring at Prowl silent for once, and Red was blinking fighting between grinning and having his mouth open.

“you…you had-have a bitlit?” Gray asks.

“Who touched you!” Yellow growls. He tightens his grip that Prowl heard the chair groaning. “I’ll kill em.” Red was by the mechs side mummer something to calm him down.

Red was silent, he kept staring at him. “One of you go get the little tyke. I bet Pantera here will fill better if he was here.”

Gray smiles, “On it!”

Prowl had the mentally go through his memory again. The mech just winked out of existence. Then the reason why the mech left hits him.

“Leave my sparkling alone!” Prowl leaps or tries to. he succeeded only in making the chair jump and startling the two other mechs. “Pantera is not my name.”

Red gave him a small sad smile, “not anymore it isn’t. Last time it was and before that, it was Cervo and before that a different name. Each time you reincarnated you wore a different name and a different frame.” He took Prowls helm into his hands, “You were our fourth, our light, our balance, and order. We had thought over so many Eons of turning you. But…you always wished to remain a mortal.”

Behind him, Prowl felt Yellows rumbling displeasure. It made his door wing flinch.

Red scowled the other, “We didn’t understand it, but we honored your wishes. Each new life you took we knew you. By your spark, by the marks that we gave you that followed you, and how we gravitate towards each other.”

“Not this time,” Yellow growls. “We thought that that Priest stopped you from coming back.”

“Sunny!”

“No Sides, we ain’t going through this again,” Yellow panted heaving hot air through his vents. “I don’t want to hold his broken frame as he dies again.”

Prowl shivers at the heavy feeling of lost the descend on them. His helm began to hurt and heat. Prowl hoped that it wasn’t a precursor to a crash. He did not want to be unconscious with his kidnappers.

“…won’t happen again,” Prowl realized that the two mechs were still talking. “We hunted down to the last mech of that Priesthood. He’ll be safe.”

“His work currently gets him a shot at,” Yellow-Sunny hisses. “We take him and the bitlit back with us,” he says with his arms cross and a tone of finality.

“Sunny,” Red-Sides whines. “You know he’ll never trust us if we do that.”

“He doesn’t remember us,” Sunny mutters.

“Which is why we have to start over,” Sides grins. “Once Blue gets back, we all talk.”

While the two talked Prowl had been working on his bindings. He almost had one hand freed when the gray mech, Blue, popped back. Smokescreen giggling on the mech's shoulders, the mechling seeing his creator gave a little wave.

“Aw he’s adorable,” Sides squealed. Sunny gave the small mechlet a wary look.

“I know, and he wasn’t afraid when I picked him up. I told them that you were working late, and I was your cousin. They said to tell you that a virus was spreading around the sparklings and that the center will be closed down for a few orns.” Blue looked between the two mechs and Prowl, “oh…you told him already.”

Sides rubs the back of his helm, “it came up.”

Blue squints at him, “how does, Your our reincarnated lover that lived back with the Original Thirteen. We are Primus Celestial Guardians and had to live through you dying until you were killed by a rogue Priest back during Guardian Primes reign.”

Prowl jerked back, “that-that was over four thousand vorns ago!”

Blue nods, “yeah. The Priest tried to grab the Power of Primus and tried to enslave us to his will. You threw yourself between the ritual dagger and Sunstreaker.”

Prowl shook his helm; it was hurting more now. “I’m not-this is insane. I’m not this mech you wish me to be. I’m a disgraced Noble who wouldn’t terminate his bastard newspark.”

Blue took Sides spot, “ no-no oh no sweet one. You could never be a disgrace.”

Prowl’s chest felt warm. It had been a long time since anyone had said something nice like that. He shakes his helm, no; these were insane mechs who needed to be admitted and get help to deal with their grief.

Smokescreen yawns, it was getting past his recharge time. Prowl huffed his sparkling would need to fuel before he nodded off. He wiggles his shoulders, “I need to fuel him.”

Sides perks up, “Oh.” He snaps his fingers and Prowls bindings fall to the floor. “Go ahead.”

Prowl eyes him warily before turning away from the pairs of optics and feeds his sparkling.

“Soooo.”

“You have yet to tell me your names,” Prowl would need names if he wanted to press charges.

“yeah,” Sunstreaker sighs, “you don’t remember. I’m Sunstreaker, that.” He points to Sides, “is my twin Sideswipe and he,” he points to the gray mech, “is our first lover Bluestreak.”

Sideswipe smiled wide, “And you are our chosen one who we love.”

Sunstreaker smirks, “You sang real loud when we showed how much we love you too.”

“And we can still have you sing for us,” Bluestreak purrs. He leans in and whispers in his audio. “I bet you’ll want to come with us just on that alone.”

Prowls frame was heating, and he doubted it was due to stress. “I think you all are insane. You need help, let me call a friend. Please let me and Smokescreen go.”

The three gave him sad worried looks, “you don’t believe us.”

“Figures,”

“He was always stubborn. Remember when we originally met,” Bluestreak added. “I guess we can give you proof.”

Prowl snorted, what proof could they have to…prove…Prowl stared in shock as the three mechs glowed and grew. They were surrounded by a bright light as ancient glyphs shimmered on their frames. Prowl felt their presence, felt awed, and he had to fight the urge to get up and kneel. More shocking was the floating matrix’s dancing around them in their orbit. When they smiled small fangs peeked out, they did not look too intimidating.

Then Bluestreak taps an area on Prowls arm and the penal shifts away. There on his arm were two healed holes. Another panel on his other arm moves, it had a matching set. A mirror is held up as Sideswipe tilts his helm, on his neck was another set of healed marks.

The three mechs jumped at the sound of pop and fizzle. Sideswipe was quick to leap forward as Prowl slumps over. Sunstreaker plucking a recharging Smokescreen from the mech's arms before he fell into a heap on the floor.

Bluestreak broke the stun silence with a giggle, “some things never change.”


	10. The Mirror pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SIlverbolt "There are two hot mechs in my room!"
> 
> Ratchet "So?"  
> Wheeljack, "How far have you gotten?"  
> "Arg!" SIlverbolt points two the two handsome mechs, "They popped out of my mirror!"
> 
> Ratchet "And you haven't frag them yet?"

Silverbolt collapsed back on his berth. It had been an orn were everything went wrong. He had been late for work and missed his afternoon classes. There had been another argument with his brothers, and he had snapped at Wheeljack. Ratchet had followed him to his room and asked him if everything was alright. Silverbolt had bristled at the feeling of being scanned. He uncharacteristically told his caretaker that he should mech up and go frag Starscream as he wanted before slamming the door in the shocked Medics face.

He locked the door and sat on his berth glaring at the mirror. The new crystal surface gave him a clear picture of what he looked like. Scowling he twisted around so he wasn’t looking at his reflection. He hadn’t been getting enough recharge since he was given the thing. It always felt like someone was watching him. How can anyone recharge when there was a pair of optics boring into their back. Then there were the feelings he would sometimes feel. Feelings that weren’t his own.

Anger

Sadness

Happiness

Lust

Love

Silverbolt had online serval times to the feeling of hands on his stomach and arms. Lingering touches on his wings and thighs. He stayed away from his room orns after that. Ratchet and Wheeljack had been worried thinking the mood change was connected to his recent upgrade. Silverbolt had chuckled and said that he was fine, nothing to worry about.

The lie felt heavy on his glossia, but he didn’t want others to think he was losing his mind. Especially after thinking, he saw faces other than his own on the surface of the crystal. He had been to the temple had been through a cleansing.

Yet it hadn’t help.

Silverbolt was losing his sanity and he was scared. He knew what happen to mechs and femmes who were determined not to be of sound mind. It was only due to Ratchets and Starscreams influence that some of his brothers hadn’t disappeared like other mechs. But their influence only went so far and only for so long.

As he slept, a mist drifted out of the mirror. Two forms took shape around Silverbolts berth. Thinking that one of his brothers snuck in he whirled out of bed and into a pair of red arms.

“Look at this Sunny,” the voice rumbles from the red chest Silverbolt was pinned to.

“I see.”

Silverbolt struggled to free himself. The arms owner chuckles and lets him go causing him to fall backward. He knew he was about to land painfully on his wings if not for a broad golden chest getting in-between him and the floor.

“Careful,” the chest behind him rumbles. The mech only tightens his hold before letting him go.

Silverbolt whirls around and jumps away from the two mechs. Using a trunk as a barricade between him and the two unknown mechs. He stared, the mechs were good looking but Silverbolt knew never to trust how a mech looked. The two mechs seemed amused.

“Who are you; How did you get in my room?” the flyer demanded.

The red mech grins, “you let us in.”

The gold mech scowls, “You’ve always known us.”

Silverbolt scowls, he tapped his ped on the floor. It was a signal, one he hoped someone would hear and come to see what was wrong. Until then…

“That doesn’t make sense!”

Red grins, “We been here that orn you became an adult.”

Gold smirked, “You can’t get rid of us. You’ll want us to stay either way.”

“Silverbolt!” pounding on the door, Wheeljacks and Ratchet’s worried voices distracted the flyer for only a second.

He was about to shout out when his face was gently pulled away. Red was there his face so close to his. “You’ll understand soon, Love.” Silver lips closed over his.

Silverbolts helm was tilted back facing Gold, “Don’t run away from us.” His lips covered Silverbolts.

When the two worried caretakers burst into the room. They found Silverbolt on his knees on the floor, dazed. Thinking that someone had gotten in without them knowing and did something to the young mech. They both picked the young mech up and carried him out of the room. They didn’t see the mechs in the mirror watching. Nor noticed how Silverbolts optics never left the mirror until the door closed behind them.

“I think that went rather well,” Sideswipe grins happily. “Maybe next time we can do more than kiss.”

“Hn,” Sunstreaker snorts. “Don’t count on it. I’m surprised he let us do that.”

Later, after hearing what Silverbolt had to say and calling in the Enforcers. Ratchet decided that a trip to Iacon was in order. He would take their youngest to see an old friend and get some answers. Wheeljack agreed and suggested taking the mirror. Until they knew more it wouldn’t be wise to put too much distance between their mechling and the haunted item.

Silverbolt didn’t know what was in store for him. He was more focused on the tingling feeling the lingered on his lips. How he wasn’t very afraid of the strange mechs. And that was unsettling, that he was not afraid and that he felt some truth to their words. For now, his caretakers were keeping his separated from the mirror. He looked up at the ceiling, he wanted to get back to his room and the two mechs.


	11. Ghostly Lover pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz really doesn't want to think about the hot transparent mech. He rather is thinking about the next album coming out. Life doesn't want to work that way he wants it seems.

“So, you really are dead?” Jazz slouched on his rickety couch. An ice pack held to his helm and another at the small of his back. Landing, he would not admit he fainted, on the hard floor did him no favors.

“Yes, I die exactly at midnight 1, 509.8 vorns ago.” Prowl floated at parade rest in front of Jazz, “Barricade had perished 5.5 seconds after I expired.”

Jazz’s helm was starting to hurt, “ya brother didn’t off ya then?”

The ghost mech shook his helm, “no he did not.”

“Ya know who did?”

A white helm gave a negative shake. “It was sudden, I know that Barricade struggled with our assassin before he was killed.”

“Okay,” Jazz raised from his slouch. “You were killed by something other than your brother. Yet he was acting like the villain.”

Prowl sighs, which Jazz didn’t know that was possible, with the lack of air. “I do not know why we didn’t pass on. But during our imprisonment Barricade became resentful. I could not stop his hatred.”

“And he turned into the scary aft I just met.” Jazz sighs, “great…so why haven’t ya moved on. You are not locked up anymore.”

Prowl shrugs, “I can only conclude that there is something else I must do. I just don’t know what that is.”

Jazz groans; why couldn’t purchasing a new house be simple? He thought the only problem he would have would be the insurance. But no, he had an amnesiac specter. He winches when glancing at the chronometer, it was way too early for this.

“I suggest you go and recharge. You do not look good.”

“Understatement mech,” Jazz forced himself up. “I don’t suppose my room is safe to sleep in now?”

Prowl tilted his helm thinking, “there are others here beside me. But they will leave you alone if you say so.”

Jazz whirled around shocked, “What!”

“Two other spirits are residing here. One is a youngling and the other is an older mech. Both were killed on the grounds.”

Jazz groans, “too early for this…Alright, any other spirits in this house. I’m going to bed don’t bug me until mid orn or later.” He drags himself upstairs ignoring the translucent mech following him. He scowls over his shoulder before entering his room. “That means you to mech.”

Prowl nods, “I understand. I will keep Bluestreak and Smokescreen from causing too much trouble.”

Jazz blinks as Prowl just disappears. Grumbling he flops on his berth. He sent a quick note to Ricochet knowing that his brother may still be too scared to answer him. Recharge claimed him quickly, it should have been peaceful. It was anything but.

Prowl felt the living mech toss and turn upstairs. It should alarm him that he was so attuned to another living being. Yet he felt at peace with Jazz the mech reminded him of someone. Sadly, he couldn’t remember his past life.

“You know that your dead right?” Prowl scowled at the grinning mech that materialized. “It isn’t hard for us to form attachments.”

“It would be pointless to form an attachment. It would only hurt once I cross over,” Prowl went back to ignoring the flamboyant mech.

“I like him!” young, disembodied voice giggles. Prowl looked around until he could find the invisible energy that was Bluestreak. Bluestreak being so young had a hard time gathering the amount of energy to form a shape. “I like the music he plays; do you think he’ll play some more?”

Prowl smiled, “maybe.”

“I’m he would so long as he doesn’t run while we ain’t looking,” Smokescreen added. The mist shape mech floated up. Smokescreen was still learning how to make a form. He had only been dead for a short time. He and Bluestreak had died around the same time but the older mech was a quick study.

Prowl being dead the longest had used the time to learn what he could and couldn’t do. All he had was time to learn being trapped in the place of his murder. When Barricade had been sane it was bearable until he had to seal themselves in that room. He was lucky that the Enforcers who took over boarded it up.

Until Jazz unsealed everything.

Once freed Prowl had done his best to placate his brother. After seeing the frightened spirits of Smokescreen and Bluestreak he had tried to shield them. But Barricade was too angry too resentful, and he threw all the negative emotions at the only living being.

Prowl would have been overwhelmed by his brother if it weren’t for the instant bond the formed with Jazz. It had clicked smoothly that Prowl would have missed it. He was surprised that Jazz hadn’t noticed. Maybe it was because he was mostly energy that he felt it.

“He’s really upset,” Bluestreak gave off a sense of worry. “You are sure that Barricade didn’t possess him?”

Prowl scowls up at the ceiling, “Yes I felt my brother past on.” He frowns at the feeling of unease. “I’m going to check up on him.”

Smokescreen gave him a knowing smirk, “didn’t he want to be alone?”

Prowl snorts, “I will not wake him. Thus, he will not know I was there.”

The blue mist rolled glowing orbs where his optics would be, “of course.”

Jazz dreams were filled with screams and smoke and pain. A kaleidoscope of sounds and color as he tossed and thrown. He thought he had screamed the sound devoured by the other's sounds. He felt his mind slipping, he tried to wake knowing that if he didn’t, he would go mad. Then…silence. The sudden silence was more shocking then the chaos had been. Jazz whimpers in relief as he felt himself floating to the surface of his mind.

Outside of Jazz’s mind Prowl lifts his hand off the mechs overheated helm. When he arrives, he wasn’t expecting to see the mech caught in the grasp of a memory purge. He acted before he thought and forced his presence into Jazz and opened their new bond. The effect was instant, and Jazz began to wake. Knowing that the mech would be still exhausted Prowl pushed back the mechs consciousness. It was easy to do. He pushed it back enough that Jazz wouldn’t dream but would recharge peacefully.

Once he was certain that Jazz was back into recharge. Prowl faded back to rejoin Smokescreen and Bluestreak. He finds that they had gone elsewhere in the house. His energy was waning, and he let his consciousness fade. If Jazz needed him, he would know.


	12. Bite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod is a young Hunter that after getting tired of being teased left to wonder. Problem is, is that he does it on the night of Unicrons Moon. And he isn't the only one roaming around.

Hot Rod could not believe his luck. It had been shitty luck in the last week, but this was just icing on his ugly cupcake. He knew that he should have listened to Kup. He had been warned about going out during Unicorns Moon alone. He hadn’t listened thinking that he was being pranked.

Now he wished he listened.

Hot Rod had been taking in by the local Hunter Tribe when Kup had found him in the smoldering ruins of Nyon. Ultra Magnus had wanted to send him to the nearest Temple. Kup ignored him and raised little Hot Rod into the Tribes newest Hunter. Sadly, so far, he was being used as bait.

For some reason, he was attracting monsters. Kup had reasoned that it was his gift. Hot Rod had snorted, he didn’t see how bursting into flames could attract creatures who hated the light. Which lead to him leaving the Tribe in a huff after being laugh at.

His timing sucked.

His luck was the worst.

Soon after leaving the safety of the Tribes territory, he had been attacked. For once he was glad of his flames. He burned the ghouls to ashes, but he found himself outnumbered. He could take a few ghouls on alone, but more than twenty? Yeah, he knew his limits. Thinking quick, Hot Rod used one of the ghouls as a springboard and jumped into the nearest tree. He used the tree to get over the hoard of undead zombies and made a run for it.

Again, his luck sucked.

The safety of the Tribe was on the other side of the hoard. If Hot Rod wanted to get back, he would have to go around. That would lead him to a freezing river or a creepy forest. Not wanted to freeze his aft off Hot Rod took off towards the creepy forest.

He lost the hoard before entering the woods. That should have been his first clue that something bigger and badder lived there. The purple-tinted moon was high in the sky before Hot Rod realized that he was lost. He should have been back with the Tribe by now. He had two choices now, he could continue and become even more lost. Or he could hunker down and wait until morning.

Not a fan of being hopelessly lost Hot Rod looked for a suitable spot to sleep. He found a shallow hole in a tree. He set up his camouflage of dead leaves and rocks and crawled in. He was thankful that he wasn’t sharing the space with any critters. Sleep didn’t come easily; every noise woke Hot Rod back up with full wakefulness.

When he was able to get into a light doze, the moon had moved yet the morning was still far off. He groans when he wakes again and seeing the moon still out. Peeking out from his hole Hot Rod tried to see if anything was out there.

He jerks back, he saw something move through the trees. Whatever it was it was quick; he had only seen a flash of white before it disappeared.

“Its nothing to worry about,” Hot Rod whispers to himself. “Just a wolf or-or a squirrel, yeah it was a…big…white…squirrel.” He squeaks when he sees the large white creature and shoots back into his hideout. “Okay, not a squirrel.”

The sound of leaves crunching outside his hideout had him squeaking again. He pulls out a well-used dagger and holds it to his chest. He pushes as far back as he could it was just his luck that he picked a tiny hole. A large red nose sniffed around the entrance; Hot Rod could see the tips of large paws.

He fights to keep his engine from whining, “I’m going to be wolf chow,” he panics in his helm.

“I smell something spicy.”

Hot Rod freezes mid-panic, “did the bloodthirsty wolf just talk?”

“I hear you,” it says, “hiding is useless. Come out now before I drag ya out.”

Hot Rod consider waiting to see if he would do it. Then again, he didn’t relish getting dragged by his rear. With as much dignity he could muster he crawls out of the hole and scowls. “I was recharging there,” he scowls.

The wolf looked amused, “a bitty hunter.” It slinks and circles, “what’s a little bit like you doing out on a night like this?”

Hot Rod bristles, “I am not a sparkling!”

The wolf snickers, “to me you are. But I guess they had to recruit at some point. Not many live to ripe old age.”

“Tell that to Kup,” Hot Rod mutters.

“But still hunter or not you are in my forest,” it bares its fangs. “what should I do with you?”

Hot Rods optics brighten. He steps back and chuckles nervously, “um let me go and forget I was here?”

To his surprise the wolf laughs, “but where is the fun in that.”

Hot Rod tried to move quickly; he saw the wolf move before his mind caught up with him. The wolf was quicker and had Hot Rod pinned to the ground the dagger knocked out of his hand. Hot Rod closed his optics when a long dark tongue licked over his face.

“mmmm you taste good.”

“Please don’t eat me,” Hot Rod hates how his voice sounded. Hated having to beg.

To his shock, the wolf starts to shift. A white mech with long finials and red markings straddled him. A bit of fang peeking out from his mouth; clawed hands pinned his shoulders. If Hot Rod had seen him any other time, he would think the mech was handsome.

The mech leans down until he was nose to nose, “I can think of better things to do with you then eat you.” Hot Rod relaxed a little at that, “but first.”

Hot Rod didn’t have time to tense as the mech bit into his neck. Liquid fire shot through his lines he screamed until his voice shot static. It hurt so much that Hot Rod was knocked offline. Above him, the mech watches as the changes start. The mech was cute and he had to admit that he had been lonely since the loss of his packmate. Ratchet would be angry at him when seeing what he did, but the healer had always had a soft spot for him.

Sensing dawn approaching on the heels of a small group of hunters. The wolf mech slings the little mech over his shoulders. He growls towards the group, no one was taking his new prize. When Kup and a few others came across the scene all they found was an impression and Hot Rods dagger.

“Oh, Lad,”

“No energon, He may still be alive.”

“Only one set of prints. Could he have been taking?”

“There is more the one type of monster out there lads,” Kup scowled at them. “lets followed these for a bit. We’ll report back to Magnus if we don’t find anything.”

“aye, sir!”

But the tracks faded, and the Hunters were at a loss. Ultra Magnus sent out letters hoping that other Tribes would help find the missing Hot Rod. Kup and Ultra Magnus could see, however, that they were already too late. They may never see the fiery mech again.


	13. Un-living Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are on the run from a hoard of the undead. That is until it's one them that gets turned.

Sunstreaker vented heavily as he fell next to his twin. Sideswipe was shuttering winching from a gash to his side. They were both battered and bleeding from orns running from former friends. Even now Sunstreaker can hear the grating sound of metal being dragged. The moans of undead mechs searching for them, rusted parts scrapping against each other, the gnashing of misaligned denta. The whipping of hooked tentacles that had nearly caught them a time or two.

He knew that some of their friends never turned after dying. They had found Prowls corpse half-eaten a hole in his helm and chest. Ratchet, primus they would never get the image out of the helm, they found him with his helm. The stains from that trauma were spattered on the wall of the medbay. Bumblebee was missing his upper half they only knew it was him because of a crushed smeared human nearby. They could just make Spike in all the mess.

They knew that First Aid was dead, they shot him after finding Ratchet. They saw Supereon take out the rest of the Protectobots before crumbling to ashes. Silver bolts doing they think. Jazz, he was still roaming around a piece of Prowl being dragged behind him. Even in death, the mech was dangerous they stayed as far as they could from him. Optimus they never found, they didn’t know if he turned or died. Ironhide, Wheeljack, Preceptor, Red Alert, Inferno, Ultra Magnus…were part of the hoard hunting them.

Sideswipe had said that that young mech Springer got Kup and the others out. But Sunstreaker wasn’t so sure and never told his twin that he saw the femme Arcee out there missing half her torso. Bluestreak was out there too, glowing optics and sharp claws Sunstreaker almost didn’t recognize him. Cliffjumper and the other mini’s, Sunstreaker shuttered. They were like demonic mice scurrying under the larger bots peds picking any scraps left over.

“S-sunny,” Sunstreaker whips his helm around. Thinking that one Them had gotten around them.

“Sides,” he leans next to his twin. Sideswipe was hurt and needing healing. The scent of his energon was drawing the undead like a dinner bell. “We can’t stay.”

His red frame shutter and coughed, “Can’t”

Sunstreaker scowls, “yes you can!”

“No Sunny,” Sideswipe removes his hand. His wound is ugly, ragged, and infected.

Sunstreaker looks closer, “a patch would fix th-

Sideswipe was shaking his helm, “No Sunny…he got me.” The red mech leans back, “you need to kill me.”

“What! This is not something to joke about!”

His twin gave him a weak smirk then grimaced, “not joking. Prime, he’s one them. Snuck up on me.” He turns pleading pale blue optics, “Please Sunny. I don’t want to be one of them.” His frame rattles from another harsh cough. Energon spills covering red and gold paint. “Let me go as me.”

“Sides,” Sunstreaker clenches his optics. “Please don’t.”

“Please Sunny.”

Another cough, there was so much energon. How can so much come from one mech? “If you go I’ll go.”

“If I turn it won’t matter,” Sides snaps. “You’ll shoot me anyway or I’ll get you!” he growls and lunges at his brother.

Sunstreaker leaps away, “Sides!”

“Sunny!” Sideswipe roars his red fades to gray. His frame morphs as he charges his prey.

Then, there was silence. Sunstreaker stands his blaster smoking. He drops it next to the body of his twin, Sideswipes helm lolled to the side a hole between his optics. Sound returned as the hoard finds him. seeing his fate Sunstreaker places Sideswipes helm in his lap and his blaster under his chin. The once Prime charges at them mouth open full of razor-sharp teeth.

Sunstreaker spends all his shots on taking the Prime down before using the last one on him. The shot rings out stopping the hoard momentarily. Seeing that their prey was gone the once mechs turned looking for more food. Behind them what was left of Sunstreaker’s face there was a small smile.

As the sunset and the moon gaze turned towards two dead beings. It watches stoically as behind one gray arm the other frame twitched. Dead optics snapped on to an eerily white it twitches more falling out of the others embrace.

Denta gnashed and growls crawling towards the other frozen frame. It takes an arm and bites.


	14. Hunting Sprites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod had done so well at keeping his secret. Now it's about to blow up in his face. at least he has someone along for the ride.

Hot Rod ran through the trees Deadlock laughers echoing behind him. The mech had been hunting him since he has seen his flames and recognize what he was. The Autobots had thought it was a useless stigma gift. They didn’t know what Hot Rod truly was. Nyon had been a target by Zeta for a reason.

Megatron knew the moment he met Hot Rod. It was why he had tried to recruit him after the city burned. Optimus had hesitated once meeting him, Prowl disliked him, Ironhide wanted him tossed on his red aft. Thunderclash seemed to like him at least which Hot Rod found annoying.

Nyon held a secret that the Senate and Zeta tried to destroy. Its residents were more than normal. Abilities mistook for stigma gifts such as Hot Rod’s flames. He knew of one femme that could turn solids to liquids. Anyway, after displaying his power once during a battle to save Blunderclashes aft; Hot Rod found he had a bounty on his helm.

The one that was picked to come after him was one of the most feared Decepticons. Deadlock. Normally Hot Rod could take one any Decepticon, but those were clueless idiots. Deadlock was anything but, he knew who and what Hot Rod was. Whether Megatron told him or he already knew was a moot point.

He was in trouble. He was in an unfamiliar part of the Crystal Forest; alone. After that last battle, he had got himself hurt enough that Ratchet placed him on light duty. Which was how he ended up being chased while out on a boring patrol.

If he had told the Autobots what he was he might not be in this situation. Then again, he might have ended up offline. Which he still could end up if he is caught by Deadlock.

“Little Autobot. Come out come out wherever you are.”

Hot Rod ran faster. What power he had for his flames he diverted to his legs. If he could gain enough distance he could melt into the crystals and get back to the Main Headquarters courtyard.

“Come out, I won’t hurt ya. I just want to knock you out and present you to Lord Megatron.”

“Frag That!” he yells.

Deadlocks laughter sent chills up his spine. He ran faster looking for a large enough crystal. When he found one it literally hit him in the face. He tripped over a root and face planted on a fallen crystal.

“Little Au~to~bot, come~out and playyyy.”

The fake cheerfully singing froze the energon in Hot Rod's lines. He pricked his finger and sloppily wrote out the symbols needed for the Transportation Spell. However, …

“Gotcha!”

“AHHHHH.”

Startled Hot Rod smeared the last symbol as Deadlock pinned him to the surface of the crystal.

“mmmm, you smell good little mech,” Deadlock leans into Hot Rod's face. “I wonder if your flames taste just as good.”

“You’re a-a Energy Eater,” Hot Rod wiggles which mess up the symbols more.

“That I am,” the darker mech smirks, “and you’re a little lost sprite. No clan to call your own no nest to hide in. Poor poor little sprite.”

Hot Rod scowls, “I’m not just any sprite fragger.” His plating begins to glow, steam rises between his seams. “I may not have a clan nor a nest. But…” Deadlock has to leap away as his hands glow red hot from the heat pouring off Hot Rod. “My kind never had them to begin with.”

The forest is aglow as a firebomb explodes. Deadlock takes shelter behind a thick crystal as the fire consumes the forest. The light-reflecting casting an eerie light. Hot Rod stands at the epicenter fire dancing over his arms and shoulders.

“Come and try me Decepticon and see why I make Bucket Head nervous,” Hot Rod points one finger at Deadlocks hiding place.

But Hot Rod's luck twisted against him. Using his power activated the magic in the symbols. They glowed brightly outshining Hot Rod's fire.

“Scrap,” he growls. He glares at Deadlock peeking over the crystal. “This is all your fault!”

“Excuse me?”

“Thanks to you the spell is out of control!” he scrambles to stop it, but it was too late. “I don’t know how this is going to go.”

Deadlock grabs the smaller mech by the spoiler, “then I suggest you let me take-

“Ain’t happening mech!” Hot Rod grunted as the tugging from the spell grabbed hold of his frame. “I suggest you let go or you’ll be joining me!”

The magic circle lit up and exploded. Deadlock closed his optics when the light became too much. The little red mech disappeared from his grasp. Then nothing. Opening his optics, he had to blink them a few times. The Autobot was in front of him but they were not on Cybertron anymore.

“Aw really!” Hot Rod stomps. “Why! Why must the universe hate me!”

“Well, Autobot-

“Hot Rod, if you are going to hunt me and fight me then use my name Primus damn it!”

Deadlock chuckles, “now why would I stop my fun?”

Hot Rod growls, “Whatever,” he scowls out at their new location. “wherever this is, it's organic.”

“Yep.”

“I need a solid crystal to get by to Cybertron.”

“And?”

“…and we need to get out of here before something eats us.”

“heh heh heh, not my problem mech,” Deadlock leans back on a gray thing. “I still have my weapons. What do you have besides your party trick?”

“party trick,” Hot Rod mouths. “Slagger!” he turns away from the smirking Decepticon. “Be that way, don’t come asking for help when something tries to eat you.”

Hot Rod moves away from the lazing mech. They had arrived in an open plane and no Crystals in sight. With a sigh, Hot Rod sat down and pulls out his pendulum. He was going to try dowsing, but he will have to concentrate hard since he didn’t know the location nor had a map.

His little pendulum swung back and forth before nearly jerking out of his hand. He thought it was pointing to what he needed. Instead, it led him back to Deadlock.

“Need something Autobot?” he quirked an optic ridge.

Hot Rod mutters, “No.”

Deadlock shrugs, “suite yourself.”

Hot Rod tries again but each time it pointed back to the Decepticon. With a frustrated cry, Hot Rod stomps back to Deadlock and plops himself next to him.

“For a bounty hunter your sure not taking advantage of this situation.”

Deadlock grunts, “no reason.”

“…do…do you want to go back?”

“…not really.”

“yeah…I don’t either.”

They sat in silence watching the organic animals fly or scurry. Giving them both a wide berth.

“We could just stay here,” Hot Rod suddenly says.

Deadlocks' answer was another grunt.

“Okay, then I shall call this planet…Hottimus!”

Deadlock chokes, “You can’t be serious!”

“What it’s a good name. and since I found it, I get to name it!”

“Who said that?”

“Well…”

“un huh.”

“then…then you come up with one!”

One a hill not far from the quarreling duo. A figure stands and chuckles. He was amused and curious about the two new beings in his home.


	15. Released

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen knew more than what he let on. Now he wished he didn't.

Smokescreen knew more of what was going on then he told the Enforcer. He knew what some of those symbols meant. Granted he was a little rusty on his translation, but he could guess what the demons had in store for them. The femme, she was beyond saving. Oh, he was sure that if she saw a professional she might recover. Now though, Smokescreen gritted his denta, the femme was cuddled up to the purple demon and letting him pet her naked frame.

He turns away not wanting to see the demon interface the femme. The Enforcer, Prowl, was in a light recharge with the sparkling in his lap. They had tried to shield the young one, he was already traumatized by the abandonment of his carrier. They didn’t want to add more on that knowing that rescues were non-existent.

Like the mechs and femmes before them, they were going to be sacrificed. Though the method was beyond him. Looking down at his exposed protoform and Prowls, he was concerned about the placement of the symbols. The symbols drawn in a circle over the area of the gestation tank would be. He knew he didn’t have one, he knew the femme didn’t either after seeing a surgical scar in the same area. He wasn’t sure about Prowl nor the sparkling. The idea of them doing anything to Bluestreak like _That_ was sickening.

Suddenly their jar shook violently. Bluestreak woke with a cry and Smokescreen marveled at Prowl's quick moves at protecting the sparkling. Smokescreen tucked in his doors before he crashed into the two. Once they stopped shaken, they looked up at the grinning face of the lead demon.

“It’s your turn Officer.”

A giant hand-dipped into the jar and Smokescreen had a second to react when Bluestreak was shoved into his arms. He heard Prowl grunt as the hand closed around him and lifted him out. Smokescreen had to hand to him, even knowing what was about to happen the mech didn’t react. He scowled and glared at the demon, but he didn’t react to the abuse inflicted on him.

Starscream seemed to have it in for the mech with the way he treated Prowl. The seeker was sadistic in his treatment. Smokescreen bet the mech would be a phycologist career case dream. Taking his optics off Prowl; Smokescreen saw Thundercracker watching him. Shivering he tries to keep his focus on Bluestreak. The sparkling was silent almost near-catatonic if Smokescreen had to guess. Not that he blames the sparkling.

He jerks back when their clear prison is snatched. Cursing, he glares at the blue demon who flashed dark red optics. Smokescreen knew what was coming. He made Bluestreak curled up into a ball and had him cover his little audios. He could do nothing about the feedback from his door wings.

He didn’t fight when the gray hand scooped him up. Thundercracker had him pinned once he regains his full size. Smokescreen numbs his mind as Thundercracker forced himself on him ignores the pleasure-filled cries from the femme. He ignores the quiet grunts from Prowl. He ignored the whimpers from Bluestreak. All his attention is on keeping himself from ending up like the femme.

“Aw slag it.”

Smokescreen opens on optic when he felt Thundercracker roll off him.

“Skywarp you idiot!”

“I didn’t mean too! It's not my fault that it started early.”

Smokescreen rolls onto his front. The two seekers were blocking his view he couldn’t see what was happening to the femme. He could hear though, moaning groaning he thought she was overloading. Her pleasure turned to pain and Smokescreen winched at the volume her cries reached.

“It's too late now,” Thundercracker huffs, “I wonder who is coming through?”

“Better not be Shockwave,” Starscream mutters.

Smokescreen was confused at that statement. Until the seekers moved, and he saw what was making the femme cry out. The symbols were glowing brightly and only made that growing curve of her stomach more noticeable. It surged up almost crushing the femme beneath its girth. The femme’s cries went to whimpers. Her protoform begins to split cracking. Energon starts leaking from the tears.

Smokescreen jumps when a hand lands on his hip. Glancing over his door he relaxed, it was only Prowl. They watched in awe and horror as the femme’s middle continue to grow. Then…a hand burst through; the femme gives one weaker cry before dying. But the two mechs were more focused on the frame coming out of her dead one. Smokescreen felt his protoform ache from watching.

The mech was large his emergence splitting the femme wide open. He had one glowing yellow optic but that was all. The mech had no face and Smokescreen could not see what color he was. He was covered in mech blood and components.

“Starscream.”

The dead voice sent shivers down Smokescreens' spine. He felt Prowl shiver next to clinging to him. looking back at the mech Smokescreen saw the fear the Enforcer tried to hide.

“L-Lord Shockwave,” Starscream says full of disdain.

“I trust there is a reason as to why I was summoned first?” his single yellow optic flashes.

“j-just the luck of d-draw,” Skywarp answers.

Shockwave turns his yellow optic towards the seeker. Skywarp shrinks as the mech continues to stare at him. The seeker vents when the mech turns towards the two-door wingers. Smokescreen froze as the demon watches them.

“I see you have acquired the ingredients at least.” The two mechs watch in horror as the demon picks up Bluestreak’s bottle. “a fitting gift to Lord Megatron.”

“Of course, Lord Shockwave. We only acquired the best for our dear…Lord and Master.”

“Save your groveling Starscream.” The seeker snarls, Shockwave doesn’t notice and tosses the jar towards the two adult door wingers. “You at least have done well in choosing one for our Lord and one for Soundwave. That you also acquired a pure spark to add to his power.”

Smokescreen had a second to wonder what that meant before they were pulled towards the jar. He landed with a yelp, he hit his door wing when he landed. Prowl crashed on his front and Bluestreak teleported to his side.

“Tonight we will summon our Lord and Master. Prepare the sacrifices,” he tosses the jar back at the seekers. “Then Enforcer, he will be the one.”

“And what will you be doing oh powerful one?”

Shockwave keeps walking, “our actions will have been noticed. I do not wish for the Prime or one of his agents to interrupt us.”

Starscream snorts, “As if they could find us. I already sent out measure.”

“You forget Starscream, of the Primes agents are nor mere mortals.”

“And you forget Shockwave that while you have been cooling your heels in the underworld. We have been dealing with the Primes agents.” The flyer snorts, “they are hardly worth the effort.”

Shockwave keeps on walking, “your arrogance will be your downfall.”

Smokescreen shutters, he had a bad feeling about this. Looking at the others, he saw Prowl stare back at him with bright optics. Bluestreak burying himself in Prowls middle.

“We must escape,” the black and white mech says.

“I’m all for it. But how; it’s not like we can crawl out of here whenever we like.”

“No, we wait when they take us out. Do you have any fighting experience?”

Smokescreen waves his hand, “a little.”

“It will have to do,” Prowl surveys the area, “Be ready to run.”

“And don’t look back.”


	16. Magic is Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sideswipe should have questioned that mech size book sitting on his berth. He is too curious for his own good.

The book sat there, innocently on his berth. Teasing him, to pick it up, to read its pages, but Sideswipe learned his lesson. He was not touching any type of occult books. After what happened last year, he did not want a repeat. Having Prowl gunning for your aft after scaring Bluestreak was horror enough.

The red mech blinks and scowls, this was something cooked up by SIC. It had to be, just to test him, well sir he was not going to fall for it. Nope, no matter how tempting it was…maybe a little peek. Ever so carefully the red mech edges closer to his berth. Watching the door, Prowl might be waiting on the other side. Sunstreaker could walk in and tattle on him, his twin always had a soft spot for little Blue.

Humans were interesting to him. All the languages he was learning, the beliefs, the stories, the myths; Sideswipe wanted, and was looking at it all. The most recent was magic, Sunstreaker had scoffed at him. Calling parlor tricks easily bunked and explained. Sideswipe had thought so too, until looking further and finding what humans called real magic. Stuff kept in the shadows and warned never to be played with.

The book was a book of spells that much he could see. He never questioned why it was Cybertronian size. The first few pages he skipped; it was all boring stuff about what to do what not yadda yadda yadda. He was only going to read it does not use it.

“transformation; we already got that.”

He was about to turn the page when something caught his optic, “ello…what’s this.” The words for the transformation spell were simple and came in a variety of ways to use. All he needed for them to work was to use them and his intent.

“hmmm, the most common use is the words Hocus Pocus…

In the medbay, a cold shiver runs down Ratchets' spine. His fingers and sides feel funny and his vision was starting to swim, “First Aid…I need…” he didn’t get to finish before fainting.

“Ratchet!”

 _Back with Sideswipe_.

Sideswipe looked over the list of words, “You can say some words backward for a different effect. Sucop Sucoh.”

In the Command Briefing Room, Prowl and Jazz both froze. “You feel that?”

Prowl nods, “something…something Sideswipe comes.”

The door winged mech looks up, “Jazz! You have a Tail!”

Jazz jumps up and looks over at the appendage tapping his leg. “What the frag!” when he looks over at Prowl, he stares slacked jaw. “Prowler…your wings.”

Prowl hesitantly looks over his shoulder and freezes. His once proud broad door wings were now slim, glitter, translucent, and every time he moved them, they left a trail of glitter dust. As he turns to looks at the still changing Jazz, he noticed something else.

“Jazz…when did you get taller?”

“Mech I ain’t getting taller. You getting smaller.”

Prowl fought the crash, but he was losing. Before going into stasis, he shouts, “SIDESWIPE.”

 _In Sideswipe's room_.

The named mech shivered and his audio horns burned, “someone’s talking about me,” he mutters before going back to the book. “There are uncommon words that can be used such as, Higgy Wiggly or Middy Fiddly.”

Out in the rec room, shouts of alarm echoed, Silverbolt watches as he and his brothers slowly turn into petite size femmes. Bumblebee and the other mini’s start clucking, Mirage shouts as Hound slowly turns to stone. Optimus Prime starts coughing, Ironhide asks what is wrong and stares at his friend when Optimus tried to speak only to remain silent.

 _With Sideswipe_.

“But the rarest form to use and must only be used once. Is Scaly Lilly…what,” he deadpans at the word. “all the others sounded cool and this one just sounds…

He jerks when someone bangs on his door, “Sideswipe!”

“Sunny?”

“Open the door lamebrain!” more bangs and growls and…was that rattling he hears. “I know this is your fault!”

Sideswipe stares at the closed door in confusion, he hadn’t done anything today. With a shrug full of confidence that he could calm his brother down he opens to door with a smile. “Hey, Bro-ack!”

A large scaly hand clamps down over his mouth. at first, Sideswipe struggled against the yellow arm. “Stop it!” the red mech stops his struggles at the command. Looking up he whines when he recognizes his twin Sunstreaker, “Explain Now!”

“MmmMm…mmmMmm!”

Sunstreaker rolled his slitted yellow-green optics and drops Sideswipe on his aft, “again; what did you do!”

Sideswipe worked his jaw, his brother's grip hurt. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Then explain this…this has your name written all over it!”

“And how could I do this; I have been in here the entire day!”

Sunstreaker blinks, “what?”

“I been in this room the entire day,” Sideswipe says calmly. “You can ask Red Alert. Remember he put one of his cameras in front of our door.”

Sunstreaker hisses, “great, just great. Look at me Sides, my once polish perfect armor is this rough organic scaly mess.” The rattling sound was back, and Sideswipe held back on choking at seeing his twins missing legs. Long lean legs replaced with a long serpentine tail that ended with a rattle. “I hate this!”

Sideswipe didn’t agree, he thought his twin was exotically beautiful. “Let’s get ya to Ratchet. He might be able to figure this out.” he takes one shiny scaled shoulder and helps his brother turn his new frame.

Sunstreaker sighs and leans into his twin, “yeah Ratchet will know what to do.”

Neither knew what had happened throughout the ARK during Sideswipe reading of a forbidden Book of Spells. Sideswipe himself wouldn’t realize what he did until later when he utters those words again in the presence of another group of Autobots.


	17. Coven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl thought he could start a new life in another city. He had run when his lover tried to kill him. He just didn't think that the creatures he was trying to run from would share that same building as him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could be seen as a sequel from ch 8. It can be read alone though.

Prowl groans, his frame was tired from moving all day. He nearly throws himself on his new berth filled with pillows. His only luxury from the chaos that happened. He grunts when his mind caught up with the extra weight on his middle. Glancing tired optics on his small mound Prowl rested a hand over it and started rubbing. When he had learned that he was sparked he had been shocked and overjoyed. He had been told that he would never be able to carry. Jazz had never expected him to and seemed happy living with Prowl.

Jazz had been preening and strutting as Prowl began to show that he was carrying. Then…one day Jazz froze when entering their shared home. Prowl had been fluffing some pillows when he noticed his mate’s sudden reaction. He was confused when he saw the mech sniff the air then giving a deep guttural growl.

Prowl will admit, he was afraid of Jazz then. Tentatively he steps towards his mate, “is everything alright Jazz?”

He was expecting his lover to shift back to his normal self. What he got was Jazz leaping over the distance before Prowl could react and being pinned painfully against the wall. Jazz gripped his wrist harshly and Prowl tried to curl around his middle. He froze in fear when he saw Jazz's face begin to change. His vizor turned red, his face more angler, pointed denta peeking over his lip, and his exuded a foreboding aura.

“Who’s been on you?” Jazz ordered. “Who have you let touch you?”

“Wh-what Jazz I don’t.”

“You DO,” Jazz shoved his face in Prowl neck, “I smell another…you let them touch you. That’s not mine in your belly…you-

“I-I only been with You. I only let You touch me. Jazz you know I wouldn’t…I never would do that to you. I have only slept with you!” Prowl trembled. This wasn’t his Jazz. Where was his Jazz; where was the mech who always gave him a beaming smile, who would cuddle with him? “Please Jazz you are scaring me.”

Jazz only growls, Prowl cries when Jazz lightening quick hands touched his middle. He stilled as sharp claws traced over the exposed protoform. Prowl had removed his armor earlier in the day. “Jazz…” he pleaded light blue optics staring into dangerous red vizor.

When Jazz loosens his grip, Prowl thought that his mate was returning…until a searing pain hit him. brought into a hug Prowl screamed as Jazz tore into his neck. Jazz was stronger than he looked, Prowl could not escape as the mech painfully bite into him. His middle was squished between them, despite the danger, Prowl worried about his bitlit. Then…suddenly Prowl was thrown to the floor. He weakly whines and curls up his door wings tuck tightly against his back.

Jazz stood over him venting snarling, “done with you. Take your bastard and leave, before I kill you.”

Before Prowls, optics Jazz faded away into a mist and out of the room. Prowl fought to stay conscious he was still bleeding and quickly. He comm’ed for help sending one to the nearest EMT’s and one automatically was sent to Ratchet. The mech was a medic and was one of the first of Jazz’s friends he been introduced to.

“Prowl?” a tired voice answer.

“Rat-chet…Jazz…not Jazz…hurt…he-lp,” Prowl felt everything every component start to shut down. “he-lp.”

“Prowl?” the medic's voice got louder. “Prowl!”

When he online, Prowl found himself in a dim hospital room. An energon line plugged into his emergency port in his middle. Seeing that his hands shot up and he only relaxed when feeling the firm small mound. Ratchet came in followed by Orion, another of Jazz’s friends.

That day…he had found out that Jazz, the mech that he told everything to. Had a dark secret. Jazz was a vampire, part of the local coven that Orion lead and that Ratchet was a member of. They explained that Jazz went mad when smelling another vampire on Prowl. Prowl had defended himself shrinking back thinking that these two mechs would do the same as Jazz. Orion quickly calmed him down saying that he believed him. Yet, no one would explain how the scent was on him or why Jazz thought the bitlit was another’s.

Orion had sadly told him that it would be best that Prowl left Iacon. For his and the bitlit's safety. Jazz had powerful friends in other covens, and they may retaliate on the mech's behalf. Prowl had been left alone in the hospital room in cold shock.

Winching at the memory Prowl rubs the scar in his neck. Jazz hadn’t left small holes but had nearly torn his throat out. Prowl after getting over the fear and shock had been amazed that he hadn’t died or lost the bitlit. He never went back to their apartment when released. He went straight to the nearest station and left with short notice to his Commander. Prowl doubted he would be able to be employed by the Enforcers again. The next few weeks were filled with paranoia and fear until he found this run-down apartment building. it had to take him a while, but he was able to get some of his things shipped to him. He had asked his only friend, a witch, to ship it.

Now, he was almost down unpacking everything. His bitlit continued to grow and started to move. While Prowl stilled feared he knew not to invite anyone in his home again. It was the only safety measure he knew that worked. But he still had to venture out of his home to find work and fuel. His stomach gave a rumble and his bitlit kicked.

“I guess you telling me it's time to fuel, huh,” Prowl smiled at his middle. His bitlit gave another kick, “very well.”

Pushing himself up Prowl mapped out the nearest fuel vendor before stepping out. He was more careful since the incident, before then he hadn’t known about the supernatural other than stories. He never stayed out long and shied away from everyone. A few mechs however were stubborn, well more like the youngling of one old mech and another door winger who lived in the same building.

Prowl had met Hot Rod and his caretaker Kup the first day he arrived. They had shown him where the landlord was and help him get a room. He was wary of the two but he sometimes would sit and chat with them. Smokescreen was another who lived in the building, unlike Prowl he was a native of Praxis and had moved away later. Prowl had been on his guard around the mech, Smokescreen was almost as charming as Jazz had been.

“Out for the evening Prowl?” Prowl stopped at the elevator. Looking over his shoulder he gave a nod towards Kup and his ward. “A bit late ain’t it?”

Prowl gave a small smile, “I was reminded to fuel.”

“Ooo has he started kicking yet!” Hot Rod teleported to his side and stared in awe, “Can I feel?”

“Hot Rod,” Kup scowled.

“No, it's fine,” Prowl gently took the younger mechs hand into his own and placed over his sparkling. He smiled at the giggle when Hot Rod felt three taps against his hand.

“So cool, I could even see your protoform move.”

Kup huffs blowing smoke from his cy-gar, “we should let Prowl go fuel, Roddy. It’s almost your bedtime.”

Hot Rod’s little spoiler dips. He turns a pout towards his caretaker, “aww.”

The old mech laughs, “none of that, you have stayed up for the past three nights.” He steers the young fed mechling away but gives Prowl a meaningful look, “best make it a quick trip. Feels like a storm coming.”

“I will take that into consideration.”

“Ain’t like that mech. Can feel it in my struts,” he scowls towards the ceiling, “feels like a bad one.”

“Then I will be quick. I was going to try Medeilas. It’s only a block away.” Prowl nods his thanks and waits until he could no longer hear Hot Rods' bargaining to stay up longer.

He took only two steps outside the building, “Hey neighbor!” before Smokescreens shout had him stalling. “Going out?”

Prowl kept distance between them, “to get my evening fuel.”

“What a coincidence so was I,” Prowl tried not to jump as a blue arm is thrown over his shoulders, “how about I go with you. Fuel tastes better with company.”

“I-

“So this is the one you cheated on Jazz with?”

Both mechs froze at the angry voice. Prowl shook in fear, he knew the owner of the voice. Standing in front of them with a sneer was Ricochet, Jazz’s twin. Prowl shrunk back from the mech who snarl bare sharp denta.

“I never liked ya, I told Jazz he was making a mistake with a mortal,” the red mech said full of disgust. “I came here to finish what he started.” Yellow vizor turns towards Smokescreen, “He’ll be please that I dealt with ya and the mech ya cheated with.”

To Prowls, startlement Smokescreen laughed. The sudden sound causing him to jump and stare at the blue mech in confusion. “Ya think…heh, well I might have. Prowls a good looking mech. Having that big belly of his makes me want to hold and rub all day long.”

Ricochet snarls leaping at the calm mech, “I’ll deal with you first!”

Smokescreen smirks, “I think not.”

Prowl isn’t sure what he was witnessing. A dark mist envelops them blocking out every single source of light. He could see only a few feet in all directions but that was enough. He got to see Ricochets attack stop mid-air by Smokescreen's outstretched hand. Prowl had to refresh his optics, no normal mech could do that.

“no,” he whispers.

Smokescreen sighs, “sorry Prowl was planning to ya once you were more comfortable.” He slams the red mech to the ground, “now don’t move mech,” he growls towards the stun Ricochet. Turning he sighs sadly as Prowl tries to back away, “I’m am sorry Prowl, but-

“Please, no not again,” Prowl begs as Smokescreen gently holds his wrist. Prowl knows it's futile to struggle. “Please.”

“I’m sorry.” Prowl whimpers when Smokescreen covers his optics, “sleep,” the command is whispered into his audio. Prowl goes limp instantly. Smokescreen gently lays him on the ground being careful of his doors. He comms Kup and his coven Leader before turning towards the outsider. “You broke a lot of rules mech. And our Leader loves his rules.” Unlike what he did for Prowl, Smokescreen punched the red mech until he went slack.

Kup arrives, without his ward, along with First Aid. Smokescreen lets them take Prowl back to the mansion while he waited for his Leader. To make sure that Ricochet does not cause any more trouble Smokescreen takes great joy in sitting on him.

“Ya ruin a perfect time to catch a date with that mech.” He pulls out his special cy-gar. Smoke curls around him embracing him, he sighs, “I might have lost my chance because of you.”

The sound of Springer landing has him standing and yanking the unconscious mech. They grunted when loading him into a crate. While Springer takes the outsider back to stand before Ultra Magnus. Smokescreen followed below waiting to hear news about Prowl. He only knew bits and pieces of that story but to him, it was one mechs lost and his treasure.


	18. The Mirror pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverbolt gets snatched up by Iacons visiting Priest. The twins explain some things.

Silverbolt shivered in the cold room. When Ratchet had brought him to the Iacon temple they hadn’t expected a golden seeker to snatch him up and lock him away. He could hear Ratchet shouting behind them before the door slammed closed. But not even a door could block the medics venomous threats. He swore that his caretaker slammed a body against the door. Something had hit it hard enough to rattle.

“Don’t worry Silverbolt,” Ratchet’s shout was muffled by the door “I’ll be back with…a higher power.”

That had been a day ago…he thinks. Silverbolt wasn’t sure how much time had passed; his chronometer wasn’t working. His room wasn’t much, just a small berth he wouldn’t fit on and a waste bin. The mirror had also been taken, not that he cared. Though why the Priest was interested in his mirror was beyond him. Right now, however, he wished for some company. Even the illusions of the twin mechs would be better than the stark white walls.

“I’m flattered, but we aren’t illusions babe,” red arms encircled Silverbolts shoulders. The red mech fit perfectly between his wings.

Silverbolt sighs, “I beginning to realize that.”

He watches Sunstreaker glare around the room. Those purple optics soften once catching his. The yellow mech comes to sit by him on the hard berth. “Your caretaker won’t be back in time,” the yellow mech says.

“What makes you say that?” Silverbolt looks at his curious.

Sideswipe snorts, “if they planned on keeping you. This room would be a bit more livable.”

“Or the temples jail,” Sunstreaker adds

Sideswipe nods, “or that.”

Sunstreaker taps the berth, “this is temporary. They don’t care for comfort if it's temporary.”

Silverbolt thought it over, “why did that flyer react to me like that?”

Sideswipe hums, “Don’t know. But something is wired around that mech.”

“If he’s sensitive then he might have picked up our auras on you,” Sunstreaker shrugs. “Since we are,” he grimaces, “-were one of Primus’s Guards our auras can be terrifying.”

The young flyer perks up, “I never hear of Primus’s Guards; who are they?”

“Who were they,” Sideswipe chuckles. “They were like Tempe Guards except we guarded the spark of Primus. And only the sparks He picks can be one.”

“We also were the very first mechs to receive sigma gifts.” Sunstreaker snaps his fingers. Silverbolt watches in amazement as the yellow mech glows. Ruins burned blue across his torso, arms, and legs. Then, the flyers' wings shot up when the floor cracked with just the tip of a black finger. “Me and Sides, we can sync up and mirror each other. We possess strength that no mortal mech can match.”

Silverbolt felt questions start to bubble up when “You said were; what happens?” He felt both mechs freeze, “I-I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.”

“No, it's not that-

“We broke one of the main rules.”

“A no breaks rule.”

Silverbolt licked his lips, “What was it?”

Two pairs of purple optics look at his sadly, “We fell in love with a mortal mech.”

“those who are Primus’s Guardians aren’t allowed to interact with his children. Not only did we fall in Love, but we also left our post to live on the surface with them.”

Silverbolt felt the bottom of his tank drop, he could feel that they were leaving out something. “What happened?”

“He was killed, by the Temple Priest. Those of our Order spread a rumor that we corrupted his spark,” Sunstreaker snarled, “and he was killed for it!”

“As you can imagine we were beyond enraged. We burned the temple down with the priest inside. Then,” he turned away from Silverbolt, “we slaughtered the Guardian.”

“The Prime at the time had us sealed away. Using our lover's energon. He made it almost impossible for us to be freed.” Sideswipe turns a big smile towards Silverbolt, “only the love and blood of our lover could free us.”

“We got your energon, so we were practically freed.”

“And we ain’t going to lose you again, not to the Prime; not to your family, and not to some Primus and Unicron damn priest.” Sunstreaker leans in until their lips almost touched, “if we have too, we will burn this place down and hide you away.”

Silverbolt shivered, “I rather we did not burn buildings down and you will have to fight Ratchet.”

Sunstreaker smirked, “Then we best get you out of here.”

“But then,” Sideswipe nuzzles his neck, “we plan on exploring this new frame.” He blows hot air over Silverbolts wings, “I bet you haven’t had a chance to explore it yet.”

The flyer shivers, “I-I…no not yet.”

Silverbolts frame heats as he is pressed between the two bodies. Until he was not, his door slams open with a bang. The sight of the golden seeker and Starscream had his feeling ice cold.

“Well this is surprising,” Starscream leers. “I wouldn’t think that a ward of Ratchet would be a worshipper of the Spawns of Death and Destruction.” He tips the young flyers helm back, “Not even his connections can save you.”

“I’m- I’m not…who?”

“You are!” the Golden Flyer stood before Silverbolt an unbearable heat radiated off him. “I feel their taint on you. Starscream he must be purified, his spark return to Primus’s cleansing light.”

“I agree, but we must act quickly, I suspect the newest Prime will get involve soon.”

“then he will do his duty and sends this heterotic back to the Well.” the flyer sneers down at Silverbolt, “If it will take him back.”

Silverbolt stood wondering where the twins disappeared to. The flyer laughs, “looking for your owners; they can not help you now. They have been sealed back into their prison and sent to be smelt down. No one will help you now.”

Silverbolt backs up as his room is filled with mechs. He fights when they grab him until a medic pricks his fuel line sedating him. They were not kind in dragging him off leaving white and gray paint streaks on the floor. As his frame goes one way, his mirror goes another until it is met with the Primes motorcade. It was only due to the Head Guard that it was found. Once getting the story from one sacred out of his mind young priest. The Prime had all exits close until Silverbolt was found.

Ratchet promise pain towards those who hurt his mechling. And the Guards and Enforcers pretended they heard nothing as the medic curse the kidnappers from Unicron to Primus.


	19. Ghostly Lover pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have changed, Jazz rolls with it and doesn't mind his ghostly guest.

Jazz never put much thought into stories about haunted houses. Sure, he watched the shows, snorted at appropriate times, and thought that half of the things said could be explained. Now, however, he couldn’t deny that he was wrong.

A chill snaked up his spine, “Bluestreak,” he sighs. It's followed by a disembodied giggle.

Living in his very own haunted house was an eye-opener. He thought that he was just dealing with Prowl until the dead Enforcer introduced him to Smokescreen and little Bluestreak. Jazz could have washed his hands of the place. He knew his twin would gladly help him sell the place. But-

The strings to his harp let out a twang.

Jazz was finding that he didn’t mind sharing his home with three dead mechs. Smokescreen was fun to be around the mech was a total card shark. Jazz found himself losing more times than he was happy with. Until Prowl tossed in his luck, apparently Prowl was better at winning. Or Smokescreen couldn’t cheat his way around the mech.

Jazz walks over to stop the string, “I’ll play a little later Blue. Right now, I need to think.”

A soft cold breeze passes through him and the door to the room closes with a soft click.

Bluestreak was the more playful and Jazz would feel him more in his music studio. The mechling loved to hear Jazz make music. Jazz had wondered why the mechling remained invisible. Prowl informed him that Bluestreak was still learning how to hold the energy to make a form. That had made Jazz curious. When he wasn’t busy, he surfed the net looking for info about ghosts. Most were ways to get rid of them very little about how to live with them.

Prowl was a mystery Jazz was trying to solve. He hadn’t cared at first but then the mech that was Prowl drew him in. He would admit that he did go searching on all the ghosts' past. Bluestreak and Smokescreen were easy to find. Jazz didn’t tell Bluestreak what he found but he did tell Smokescreen. The mech shrugged his doors.

“I figured that’s what happens,” he sighs, “I don’t remember much, and I don’t fill the need to deal with it.”

Jazz erased the files.

Finding information about Prowl, however, his death was so far back in time that there was very little about him. Most were legend and according to Prowl mostly false. Jazz wasn’t giving up, but it wasn’t a top priority.

“You should rest,” a warmth trialed down Jazz’s back.

Jazz wasn’t sure why, but Prowl was always warm. All the information said that ghost was cold, but Prowl was warm. It had startled both at first.

“I will, just as soon as I get this note right.” Jazz's answer was muffled by the pen in his mouth.

He jerks when an unseen hand tweaks one of his audio horns. “You been going at it for days now. Time to take a break.” Another ghostly hand travels down rest on his thigh.

Another that had happen since Jazz released Prowl. Jazz found himself being drawn closer to the ghost. Prowl had felt the same thing. They danced around each other before Smokescreen shoved them both in Jazz’s room and locked the door. Jazz had sat on his berth feeling very awkward. The silence lasted a good many hours before Jazz made the first move. He had asked Prowl to materialize and once the mech formed planted a kiss on translucent lips.

The following interface was interesting, to say the least. Jazz didn’t think he could explain the feeling of being ravished by a ghost. Prowl was on him, in him, all around him leading his frame into a quaking overload that sent Jazz offline. His sensor was blown from all the input and he couldn’t compare that night to any other interface.

“Jazz,” Prowl whispered in his audio, “If you don’t come to berth…” Jazz shivered as he felt one of Prowl's hands go through his chest playing with his spark. “Then I’ll have you here, have you overload until you fall offline, then carry you upstairs.”

Jazz hums, “Tempting…but a berth does sound nice.”

Prowl chuckles, “I thought you see it my way.”

Jazz had heard all the stories about haunted houses. He could proudly say that he was better and his ghost was the best spook around.


	20. Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod was never lonely. His friend had always been there. But now someone else can see him and Hot Rod doesn't know if he can trust this mech. He promised to help his friend after all.

Hot Rod curls into a ball as the shouting grew worse. He was hiding under his berth as his caretakers argued. They always argued over the littlest of things and sometimes about him. Hot Rod didn’t understand what he did but when they argued about him it never ended well.

“You could always leave,” a ghostly white hand rubs under his little spoiler.

“But then you would be alone,” was Hot Rod's automatic answer. He turns towards the owner of the translucent hand. “You’re my friend Drift.”

Hot Rod had known Drift ever since he could remember. The ghost had played with him when Hot Rod's caretakers left him alone. He told Drift everything and the mech told him great stories.

“I know but I worry about you,” the white and gray mist shifts. “I won’t be able to protect you. Not like this.”

Hot Rod laughs, “You don’t have to worry about me!” he grins, “I can outrun them.” His little face grew serious, “I had promised you, remember, that I was going to set you free. So, you can go see your friends, you said they were waiting for you.”

Drift sighs or Hot Rod thinks it’s a sigh. He didn’t think a ghost could vent. “Roddy-

“Nope ain’t happening,” Hot Rod stubbornly said. He crosses his arms and scowls.

They stared at each other until Hot Rod flinches at the sound of his door being pounded on. “Hot Rod, you little shit,” one of his caretakers yelled. “Get your little red aft out here!” more pounding.

“Okay maybe I’m a little scared,” the youngling whispers. “come with me?”

Drift scowls at the door, “sure. I’ll be right behind you.” He hovers behind the spooked youngling.

Hot Rod musters up his courage before trekking downstairs. His caretakers are sitting on the couch looking for all the world sober. But it was the stranger sitting across from them that caused Hot Rod to pause. Behind him, he heard Drift hiss. Hot Rod fought the urge to look behind him. The stranger smiled at Hot Rod his optics darting over the youngling’s spoiler.

The mech was short and orange but Hot Rod didn’t care about that. His interest was the two big optic things over the mechs optics. They were big and stood out. The mech must be used to other staring because he only chuckled when Hot Rod saw that he had been caught.

“You must be Hot Rod,” the mech says kindly. “My name is Rung. I was told that you have an interesting friend.”

Hot Rod blinked, he hadn’t told anyone about Drift.

“We didn’t call you here to encourage him,” his femme caretaker hisses.

“Fix him or take him away. We can’t deal with this anymore!” his other caretaker says.

Hot Rod droop, he knew this was coming but he wanted to believe that he wasn’t going to be tossed out. His sadness made his colors dull and a picture flew off the wall nearly hitting his mech caretaker. The mech let out a yelp and glared in the youngling's direction. Rung however was watching Drift.

“I didn’t do it!”

“Then explain it!”

“Why; you won’t believe me!” Hot Rod glared back at his former caretaker. “I bet he doesn’t know how drunk you get, or that you hit me and lock me in the basement for days. Drift’s the one who lets me out. He’s more of a caretaker than you and he’s dead.”

_Slap_

Hot Rod stood frozen; his cheek stung. The mech reared his arm back for another strike when it was grabbed. “I wouldn’t” Rung smile chillingly. “Drift is more than capable to do more than toss a picture. I have notified the Enforcers. I believe you two will be blacklisted from any future adoptions.”

Hot Rod didn’t stick around the hear the rest. He ran back upstairs and jump under his berth. It wasn’t being hit that hurt him. He has been struck enough times to become numb to it. It was the knowledge that he was about to become homeless. He heard stories about younglings being tossed out on the streets. Drift wouldn’t be able to come with him. the ghost was anchored to the house, Hot Rod didn’t want to be alone.

He didn’t know how long he was under the berth. He fell asleep he knew that much and Drift was still there. He didn’t leave his safe zone, not even when he grew hungry or when the Enforcers would come to try to get him to leave. Rung came up and stayed and talked, he talked to Hot Rod and Drift.

“What if I told you that I knew someone who could help Drift,” Rung says, “would you come out then?”

Hot Rod thought it over then looked over at his friend. Drift was good at hiding his feelings, but Hot Rod knew. “I promise Drift I help him be free…your friend, can he help. Really help?”

Rung nods, “Yes. I also wish for you to meet the mech who wants to look after you.”

Hot Rod gave the orange mech a specious look, “Why?”

“Kup is one of our best caretakers. He’s an older mech and more experience. He picked your file out before it was even finished being written. I won’t force you, but I think you should meet him at least.”

Hot Rod chewed on his bottom lip.

“I think you should,” Drift whispers.

“I don’t know.”

“How about this, I stay until you decide what he wants. After that Rung's friend can help me. Sound good?”

Hot Rod thought it over then wiggled out from under his berth. He stood in front of Rung's hand on his hip. “I agree, but only if I can meet your friend. If I don’t like him I…I will turn you both bright neon pink!”

Rung chuckles, “very well. Come they are downstairs. My friend's name is Ratchet and he’s the best at sending sparks to the Well.”


	21. Unborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She came back home from partying. she came back with more than just a hangover. Smokescreen doesn't know what's happening. Prowl wants to make new friends.

Tealgate groaned, it was the day after Unicorn's Moon, and everything hurt. She had gone out with some friends leaving her sparkling, Prowl, and her oldest youngling Smokescreen alone for the night. She needed some time away from her children and a night out with friends was just what she needed. She even met a mech who gave her all the attention she been craving. He took her to a fancy hotel and made love to her all night.

Now she was alone, hungover, and dragging her aching frame back to her run-down apartment with a sick sparkling. She grimaces when her stomach gave a big jolt. It felt like something was kicking her tank. When she got back to her apartment, she found Smokescreen cuddled up to Prowl both still in recharge. Hoping they stayed that way she flops down on her berth and whimpers as another wave of pain rolls through her.

Rubbing her stomach, she freezes. Something didn’t feel right. Rubbing it again she looks up and gasps. Her armor was pushed out away from her protoform and it was still growing. Whimpering she pushes herself up and into the wash racks. Hands hovering over her distended middle she gasps as her protoform rocks with movement. She collapses the weight becoming too much. Smokescreen barrels into the wash racks, he was woken by her screaming. He runs out yelling about calling for help.

Tealgate didn’t hear him as her stomach grew and the thing inside pushes outward. What was one; was now two as she felt more than one set of hands and feet. She’s crying as energon starts to drip from the small and growing tears in her protoform. It bubbles out of her mouth, something broke inside her. Her stomach gives a mighty lurch before stilling. Tealgate whimpers and cries at the reprieve.

Prowl chirped from the doorway, curious. He crawls over to the femme he barely knew and touches the large mound of gray. He giggles when something pushes back, he stayed there playing until Smokescreen collected him.

The youngling held on to Prowl as he wiped coolant tears from her caretaker’s face. “help is coming,” he whispers.

“th-thank you Smok-ahahAHAH AHAHAHHHH!” she screams as her stomach lurches. There is a sound of tearing that could barely be beard over the femmes screams.

Smokescreen jumps back covering Prowl as energon sprays. He watches in horror as their caretaker’s stomach burst open and two sparklings roll out. Smokescreen didn’t know what to do; should he help his caretaker or help the sparklings or run for help?

Just when he made up his mind the sparklings began to grow. Before his optics, the sparklings turned into younglings then grew into adults before stopping. They were gold and red with purple optics survey the room, the dead femme before landing on a frozen Smokescreen and a chirping Prowl.

The red one took a step towards them, Smokescreen bolted. He didn’t get far before he was grabbed. The gold one took Prowl out of his arms ignoring Smokescreens cry.

“Hey now, no need for the tears little bro,” the red one pets one of Smokescreens door wings. “Sunny just going to get tiny bro cleaned up.”

Oily tears streamed down Smokescreen’s face. After everything it was too much to handle, he went limp in the red mech's arms. “tch, poor thing.”

“Well, Sides what now?” Sunstreaker stood over the sink cleaning dried energon off a squirming Prowl. Little door wings flapping at being tickle.

Sideswipe grins, “what else. Finish our job and wait for these two to grow up. But first…” he takes one small blue arm pulling the armor gently back before biting. Symbols appear on the protoform before sinking into the flesh. “There now we’ll be able to find them.”

He looks over to see Sunstreaker do the same to Prowl. The sparkling shrieks in pain before the gold mech whispers a command. The sparkling falls into recharge without much of a fuss.

“Hide them over here. Help me destroy the room more.”

Sideswipe tucks the two young mechlings under the couch before he starts breaking things. They ignore the dead frame in the wash racks but smeared the energon all over the living room. When EMTs showed up they franticly called for backup. Enforcers stormed into the room until one found the unconscious mechlings. The frame was taken away and when Smokescreen woke, he couldn’t remember much.

He could only remember his caretaker leaving for the night coming home the next morning. After that, he remembers screaming and energon but not many details. All the while he rubbed his wrist where under the armor ancient symbols glowed.

When they were released from the hospital Smokescreen and Prowl were given to a family friend. Ratchet took them out of Praxis and raised them in Iacon. Smokescreen wouldn’t think about that night for years. Until while on a patrol, he meets a familiar red mech.

“yo little bro, glad to see ya again.”


	22. A wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverbolt had been warned about the shapeshifters, he hadn't believed them. Until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: glares at the shadowy figure.
> 
> Silverbolt: lightening dancing between fingers.
> 
> Me: "get em!"
> 
> Shadow: runs away!

Djinn a supernatural being that will grant any wish, for a price. Silverbolt had been warned against them ever since he was a tiny sparkling. When movies and shows started painting the djinn in a positive light his aging grandcreator warned him away. He drilled into all his grandcreations that jinn was not smiling happy will grant three wishes without consequences genies. Every wish did harm, for the jinn were evil and best avoided. Silverbolt had taken the warning with a grain of salt. He hadn’t believed in the supernatural, but he humored his grandcreator.

Now, however, he realizes that he should have listened. Over the last week, students at his university have died or been mauled beyond recognin. His best friend had dragged him to this old femme who warned them it was a djinn. His friend later admitted that he did summon the being and that it was stalking mechs and femmes. Currently, Silverbolt was its new target as he found himself pinned to a bench in the university's Temple.

Slender white wings flicked over a red and blue body. Red optics stared hungrily down at him the silver faceplate had a smug smirk. Silverbolt had to admit that the mech was good-looking but if he hadn’t seen him caused a femme to cough up her own tank, he might have thought the mech was normal. Turns out his friend had summoned the jinn on purpose. He wanted Silverbolt, wanted his frame to use however he pleased.

Silverbolt hadn’t realized that his friend was that twisted. He wasn’t all that upset when the djinn proved his reputation. The mech laid in a moaning heap of twisted metal and energon.

The jinn tilted Silverbolts helm back, “you have a wish little flyer,” he stated.

“None worth your price,” Silverbolt squirmed. “Let go of me!”

The red impostor purrs, “What do you wish little mech. I can give you everything you ever desired.”

“Not interested!”

“Oh but you are I can smell it,” the mech slinks down Silverbolts frame. The jinn hums, “I can see why that fool wanted you,” he says stopping over Silverbolts middle.

Silverbolt fights the wants of his frame, “stop that.”

The evil mech chuckles sitting up straddling Silverbolts thighs, “I’ll leave once you made a wish.”

“Leave I know about you. I will not make a wish.”

“So you know about my kind, hmmm,” he clicks his glossia. “How bothersome,” then he grins wickedly. “But I played this game before.”

With a snap of his fingers, four figures dropped next to them. Silverbolt cries out when seeing the state of his brothers.

“Such interesting wishes, but you knew that,” he taps Silverbolts nose. “there is still time to save them,” it purrs, “all you have to do is wish it.”

“You just want the power, why this; you have enough now!”

The djinn leans in close, “because, you have something special and I want it.” Silverbolt was yanked up and whirled around until the djinn was behind him. One blue hand rubbing over his nosecone. “Just say the words and they’ll be spared.”

Silverbolt watches as one of his brother's whimpers as a wing is slowly bent. Clenching his denta he asks, “what is the price?”

He felt the pleased field scorched his back, “your spark and frame.”

Silverbolt gave one last look at his brothers, hesitating, before going limp helm hung, “…I wish…”


	23. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl knows what is coming. Sees and hears his fate. He was not expecting rescue...until he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "Why?" whines
> 
> Prowl: "Seriously?" 
> 
> Muse: smugly grins, "What? I thought it was great why to bring Megatron in." 
> 
> Prowl: scowling, "I will end you."
> 
> Me: "wait," Prowl stops, "Let me get a few more chapters out of her first."

Prowl would never show anyone how terrified he was. The evil seekers and the one optic monster had arranged all the dead frames in a circle. Before he very optics he watched as those frames stood on their own. He was not fooled into thinking that they were still alive, the frames had been turned into undead sparkeaters.

While he worried about what monstrosities those being were wrecking, he had his own worries. As the last of the undead dragged itself into the shadows he, Smokescreen, and Bluestreak were dumped out of their jar. Smokescreen had been grabbed by the blue seeker while Bluestreak was taken by the purple one. Prowl had been roughly grabbed and thrown into a drawn-out circle spread eagle. He tried to control his venting, but the terror won out.

He knew was his fate would be, they all saw what happen to the femme. He shivered when he felt the cold hand of Shockwave touch his middle.

“I feel our Lord,” it said. “I will show how not to damage a vessel. I know Our Lord will want to feast later.”

Starscream rolled his optics.

before Prowls optics his exposed protoform moved. He froze as it pushed up then fell. Then the pain hit, and he screamed when his protoform strained. Something was keeping him still all he wanted to do was curl up as something pushed its way out. through the coolant tears, he saw a flash of metal and felt the sting of it biting into him. the pain intensified as his protoform pushes out but this time it didn’t go back down.

He screams again when a hand burst out of him. It was followed by the rest of the body stretching his protoform wide. Prowl thought surly, surly he was going to die, there was so much energon and he had been nearly torn in half. But he wasn’t dying, his energon was creeping back into his body once the fully grown mech was out. His torn protoform closed leaving him whole. Through pain-filled optics, he watches as Smokescreen goes through the same thing. He watches the exposed gray protoform stretch beyond its limits and a frame coming out.

“Shockwave,” the spiky silver mech growls, “I trust everything is ready?”

Shockwave bows, “yes my Lord. I have sent out the pawns to distract the Prime.” He waves towards the heaps that were Prowl and Smokescreen. “As well secured three of Primus’s Bless for your enjoyment.”

Red optics zero in on Prowl making his shiver. “ah, this one,” a hand pulls Prowl up by his chevron, “gave birth to me?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The giant hums, “You have done well. He still lives.”

Shockwaves bows, behind him Starscream seethes. They were soon joined by another mech, “Soundwave, prepare to transport my army.” Megatron smiles wickedly down at Prowl, Smokescreen, and Bluestreak. “I wish to bond with my carrier. And see to their comfort.”

Prowl did not believe one word.

“As you command Lord Megatron.”

Prowl tense when the large blue mech made to grab Bluestreak. The mechling had been roughly tossed between the still in pain adults. In his state he could do nothing to protect the small mech, Smokescreen was unconscious from the ordeal.

Prowl felt tentacles wrap around him lifting him as if he weighed nothing. Out of the corner of his optic shadows danced. He paid no attention thinking that they were more minions of the Demon Lord. So, he missed the glint of a blue vizor before the clearing erupted into chaos. The three of them were dropped when a white powered explosion knocked Soundwave. Prowl rolled until he hit a tree, Bluestreak hitting him with a cry. Smokescreen hadn’t been able to move and laid sprawled out in the open.

A mighty roar shook Prowl to his core, “Megatron!” it deafens the sounds of battle as a large red and blue mech in blazing symbols came hurling out of the forest and crashed into the towering Demon Lord.

Cold metal at his neck tore Prowls gaze away from the fight and to a red mini-bot pointing a sword at his neck. “I found one!” he cries.

Only to be shoved away by a larger red and white mech. Prowl would later realize that the mech trying to help him as part of the healer conclave, and a high ranking one. But that was later when logic and reason returned to him. now he was on fear and terror and the need to getaway.

“Hey, stop fighting me, mech. I’m trying to help you!”

Prowl struggled as a hand touched him pinning him.

“He’s one of them Ratchet!” the red mini shouts. “Let me put him out of his misery.”

“One more word Cliffjumper and you be joining him. Don’t give me more work to do!”

Prowl paid them no attention as he struggled, he only wanted to get away get Bluestreak away. As his system became stress cool hands to his helm and tilted it until his optics met a blue vizor. Then Prowl knew no more.

“Really Jazz?” Ratchet sighs picking up the limp Praxian.

Jazz took care of the sparkling while Hound had ahold of the other adult. “What, he was terrified and wasn’t listening. We’re short on time and didn’t couldn’t deal with it. He’ll be fine,” he waves at the healer.

Ratchet snorts, “fine but you're watching him until he wakes. I still have to go over these other two.”

Jazz grins, “not complaining, he is cute for the one who brought bucket head to the world.”

Cilffjumper grumbles, “which is why we should be taking him out now. Now caring for him.”

“We don’t know if he was willing or not,” Optimus Prime walks up to them. The battle having finished with Megatron growling threats before vanishing. “Until we know more, I want him kept under guard. Him and the other.”

Jazz tilts his helm looking out from his vizor, “and the bitty?”

Optimus turns sad optics to the quiet and in shock sparkling. “I will trust that our healers can help him overcome this trauma.” He ignores Ratchet snorts, “For now let us return, we must inform the senate of Megatron’s return.”

“Not that it’ll do any good,” Ratchet grumbles.

Prowl woke slowly and confused he hadn’t expected to wake at all and pain-free. Yet he was awake and on a berth with pillows. Staring at the ceiling he wonders if what he went through had been a horrible nightmare from working too much. Until a chuckling drew his attention to the side.

“Not a dream mech,” a short vizor mech grins at him, “names Jazz, and who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“…Officer Prowl of the Praxis Enforcer corps…where am I?”

“Enforcer corps,” Jazz shook his helm. “mech you’re a long way from home…” he throws out his hand, “Welcome to Iacon!”


	24. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverbolt tried to fit in. He was always different, he just didn't know how different he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "What the hell!"
> 
> Silverbolt: "You made me sound like a...like a...
> 
> Muse: "Sexual deviant." grinning, "I like it."
> 
> Me: sighs.
> 
> Sunstreaker: :|
> 
> Prowl: "Why am I the bad guy in this one?"
> 
> Muse: "Can't be nice all the time Prowl."
> 
> Sunstreaker: "Your make me sound like I have no control:
> 
> Sideswipe: "bow chica bowwow"
> 
> Sunstreaker: "Shut up Sides!"

Silverbolt felt something was off. He could feel it the moment he online after the last battle. The medbay was quiet, he was one of three still stuck under Ratchets care. Sighing he wiggles onto his other side. Starscream had taken a particular dislike to him this time. The seeker kept his focus on Silverbolt the entire battle before driving him into the ground. Silverbolt was just lucky that he hadn’t landed on his back and damaged his wings.

Though the seeker certainly tried.

Silverbolt managed to knock him off before the mad mech did anything. After that, he had to fight Starscream before help could arrive. The seeker had herded them a good distance from any Autobot back-up. His brothers were too busy fighting Thundercracker and Skywarp to notice what had happened. That is if they cared in the first place.

It was no secret that the rest of his gestalt didn’t think highly of him. A fact that was sadly overlooked by the majority of mechs and pounced on by every Decepticon around. He could only hope that the few mechs that were nice to him noticed he was not around and send help. Which thankfully arrived before Silverbolt collapsed after using his lighting too many times. Which most likely was the reason he was currently in the medbay.

Hoping that that was all that was wrong with him, Silverbolt gently pushed himself up and over his berth. He stood there venting; his frame felt heavier than it should. Shuffling the short distance to the closest mirror Silverbolt reared back at his reflection. It was him, yet not him. His optics should be blue, not this yellow-green. His plating should be white with hints of yellow and red, not blueish black with spark blue swirls. His wings should be flat and short, not long arched feathered and black.

He stopped looking, he didn’t want to see any more changes. He tips back knocking into something that hits the floor with a loud clatter. It sounded louder than it did. He didn’t know how long he sat there on the floor before the sound of doors opening snapped him out of his daze.

“Ah,” Ratchet came over to him, “finally decided to rejoin us then?”

Silverbolt blinks up at him. “Ratchet?”

The medic sighs and gently helps him back to his feet and takes back to his berth. Silverbolt let the medic scan him with fuss. “What have you gotten yourself into mechling,” he heard Ratchet asks, dark shoulders and wings shrug. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“Fighting Starscream, the twins pouncing on him, then nothing.”

“I see.”

The medbay was quiet except for the monitors attached to Ironhide and Cliffjumper. Neither had woken during Silverbolts meeting with the floor.

“I like for you to stay for another day. We need to figure out how and why you changed.”

“Alright,” like he had anyone waiting for him. His team most likely was causing trouble somewhere.

“Don’t know if these wings will fly,” he could feel the scowl from Ratchet. “I wouldn’t recommend trying until we know for sure.”

“Not in that much of a hurry,” Silverbolt mutters.

“Right,” Ratchet pats and rubs the back of his helm, “try to get some real rest, okay?”

“Yes sir,” Silver bolt turns on his side his new wings fanned out behind him. “They feel longer,” he says.

Ratchet snorts, “no surprise. The longest tip is touching the ground.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t stay asleep long, his mind targeted by nightmares. In them he’s dripping in energon, frames of his friends and team scattered around him parts of the missing. He’s laughing, the sound is strut chilling. Mentally he’s screaming wanting to wake yet the nightmare wouldn’t let him go until Silverbolt was staring at his own face.

“you did this,” his copy says. “this is your fault Destroyer.”

“No.”

“Yessss,” it leans in. Silverbolt could smell the sickly-sweet smell of fresh energon. “You will, you’ll enjoy it. Giving their sparks to the unmaker, feeding his perfect little creation.”

“NO.”

The thing laughs, “oh you can’t escape. He will find you and will obey.” It tilts his chin up the grip mockingly gentle, “you’ll love every second of it.” It looks down and Silverbolt can’t help but follow its gaze.

He wished he hadn’t, his scream of denial is cut off at the thing kissing him. Then…he onlines to Ratchet shaken him and screams falling off the berth scrambling away from the medic. Ratchet watches him in shock.

“easy Silverbolt, your okay you are safe,” the medic slowly squats down in from of him. “Your safe.”

The flyer still tense lets the medic help him back to his berth. “Nightmare,” he mutters when asked why he acted like that.

“Would you prefer to be in your room then?”

Silverbolt nods, he never liked being in the medbay. With a promise that he came to see Ratchet every orn Silverbolt could return to this room. His new frame got many appreciated looks from the other Autobots. But the flyer didn’t pay much attention as he rushed back to the safety of his quarters. He shared his quarters with his gestalt and no surprise they were not there when he arrived. Most likely out flying and causing trouble.

The uneasy feeling followed him into recharge and back to the arms of the dark being. This time Silverbolt couldn’t force himself awake. And then this being took advantage. It felt like vorns as the dark being assault his mind and frame. But outside his mind, it had only been a few hours before he returned to the land of the online. Phantom touches and aches had him racing to the wash racks purging. The being had delighted in causing Silverbolt to beg, forcing his frame to go through pain and pleasure.

Feeling hungrier than usual Silverbolt braved facing the ARK’s inhabitants and went to get fuel. Only to have his path blocked by Prowl and Smokescreen and Bluestreak. Confused he was shocked when the three mechs kneeled in front of him.

“My Lord, it is good that you have returned to us,” Prowl looked up at him with white optics.

“We have been waiting for your arrival,” Smokescreen added.

“and the arrival of the Dark Prince,” Bluestreak didn’t raise his helm but Silverbolt caught white optics looking at his middle.

“We await your command.”

“We are here to serve your every need.”

“Both body and mind.”

Silverbolt back up confusion marring his face. Prowl moved quickly and took one arm while Smokescreen took the other. They transported them to an area Silverbolt never seen filled with meshes and pillows. He was laid on the soft nest and choke when Prowl stepped between his thighs. Smokescreen and Bluestreak had taken to petting his feathered wings.

“As your servants, we will attend to all your needs.” Prowl kisses the hot interface panel, “do not fight us Silverbolt, you have been chosen to bring forth Unicorns creation. Accept it and enjoy its rewards.”

Silverbolt tried to fight, tried to deny but soon fell into bliss. No one had ever treated him like Prowl the others were treating him. He let go flipping until he was on top grinding down on Prowl. He repeated each session with each Praxian.

Later as he lounged feeling satisfied, he turns to Prowl who was petting his exposed protoform. “Why,” he asks. “I thought that you followed Primus like the others?”

Prowl snorted, “Primus is restrictive and unbending. Those that follow are the same. But Unicorn is freedom. To be allowed to do as one pleased.”

“But why me? I am not that strong.”

Prowl smile, “because you wanted it.”

“What, no!”

“Oh yes, you wanted the freedom. To feel happy and not share it. To be separate from your brothers.” He pets over Silverbolts gestation tank, “to be different.”

“But…I…”

“Tell me, when following the teachings of Primus. Stating that you could love anyone; why didn’t you try to go after Sunstreaker.” He grins at Silverbolts shocked look, “Oh yes I knew how much you were pining after him. Just like I knew that Jazz has been wanting me. Yet neither of you will approach. Why do you think that is?”

Silverbolt had no clue.

Prowl frowns, “Because even if the preaching’s say one thing, they mean another. Wings stay with wings; wheels stay with wheels. Just like how the Senate and the Nobles were before the war. Have you notice how the twins are treated even by fellow Autobots. How you and your brothers are treated; how Blades is treated?” He straddles Silverbolt, “with Unicorn we can love who we want whether they be flyer, sibling, or twins without consequences.”

Silverbolt froze, “…you and uh, Smokey?”

Prowl grins, “there is no harm we are not like organics. Though we draw the line when it comes to younglings and sparklings. Such beings have no place in either ideology.” His optics brighten, “I will have Sunstreaker report here. I suggest you make use of that time.”

“What…wait Prowl!”

“Don’t worry, Sunstreaker is an excellent candidate. You both will make a strong sparkling together,” Prowl opens the door. Standing there fist raise to knock Sunstreaker blinks at Prowl then to Silverbolt.

“Um reporting as ordered Sir. What did he do this time,” Sunstreaker sighs thinking it was about his twin?

“Sideswipe has done nothing…yet. But this isn’t about him. More it is about you and Silverbolt being honest and interfacing.” Prowl takes Sunstreaker's golden shoulder and tosses him across the room. “Now this door will remain locked until tomorrow. I will return then though I doubt either of you will want to leave by then.” He smirks before closing and locking the door.

Sunstreaker shoots up cursing the SIC before whirling on Silverbolt. Who was still armorless and lounging. Sunstreaker quickly adverted his optics though his frame warmed at seeing the flyer. “What gotten into Prowl?”

Silverbolt shrugs, but smiles up at his crush, “don’t know.” He leans back legs spread, he decided to see if what Prowl said was true, “want to sit?”

Sunstreaker still wasn’t looking though Silverbolt seeing how the mech was struggling. “Sunstreaker,” he purrs, “why are you fighting?”

“this…it ain’t…”

“It ain’t proper; it's not right; come now Sunny,” Silverbolt opens his panel, “I want you. I want to feel you. To feel your kindness and your aggression.”

Sunstreaker whines before kneeling in front of Silverbolt. Like a switch, he stiffens then pulls Silverbolt flush against him spike hardening. Silverbolt is surprised by the purr he gives before Sunstreaker thrust into his. A please feeling prickled in the back of his helm but Silverbolt paid it no mind as he relished in the feeling of his crush inside him.

When Prowl came back the next day, he hums at the sight of Sunstreaker still pounding into the flyer. He drifted over smirking at the feeling of the two. He was pleased how his plan had gone and picked the young flyer to be the bearer had been easy. Soon, he would reap the rewards and Praxus will be avenged for what the Temple of Primus did. Maybe, his Lord and Master would let the little flyer live if Prowl played it right.

If not, he could enjoy it for a little while until the sparkling arrives.


	25. Pumpkin Patch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth had wonderful holidays the Autobots thought. but since most of those Holidays older then most humans things slip through the cracks. such as why you should beware of the gourd that has your face on it.

Hot Rod loved being around his young human friend. He enjoyed experiencing the Earthen holidays with him. His favorite one though was taking Danny Trick or Treating on Halloween night. He thought it was fun watching kids get all excited and seeing the imagination of humans take flight. Some of the other Autobots took the scarier side of Halloween and hadn’t held back when the new arrivals first landed. Hot Rod was fine with being on the fun side. This year, however, trick or treating had to be done differently. Instead of going door to door, Carly had suggested Danny go to the local farmer who was hosting a trick or treating event in his pumpkin patch.

Bags of treats would be hidden in carved out jack or lanterns and the kids had to find them. Danny wasn’t thrilled until Hot Rod said he would come. Though he wouldn’t be able to help find the treats he could help Danny find his way through the maze better. He tried to get Springer and Arcee to come but both declined. Kup had huffed and told him to go have fun but beware of the spooks who take young bots. Hot Rod fought the urge to roll his optics, it wouldn’t do to set a bad example for Danny.

Halloween was on a school day this year, so during the day while Hot Rod did his shift Danny was at school. That afternoon after an early dinner and a short nap, Danny piled in Hot Rod alt mode dressed like Grimlock with a small orange pumpkin pail. The pumpkin patch maze was impressive, he did worry about his human charge getting lost in the tall organic plants. Throughout the maze, lighted pumpkins glowed. He could see a few of them from his height. He stayed in alt mode most of the time the pathways were big enough for him.

“ready to have some fun buddy?”

Danny sighs, “I guess.”

“Hey, what's wrong; It Halloween, you're supposed to be excited.”

“I wanted to go trick or treating with my mom and dad this year. They promised.”

Hot Rod sighs, “I know kiddo, but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t want to.”

Danny flops back into the seat waiting for their turn. “I know, they have important stuff to do. And Optimus needed their help.”

“Yeah, but hey we have fun. You’ll find all the treat pumpkins and share them with Spike and Carly when you get home.”

Danny silently nods. Hot Rod was concern, the boy usually was excited but lately, he had been the opposite. The red mech figured that he was still down about his parents being busy. But just in case he kept at least two scanners on the boy.

Once in the maze, Danny's mood slowly started to shift. He was smiling more but Hot Rod could sense something else was wrong.

“Hey, I found one!” Danny cried. Holding up a goodie bag.

“That’s great!” Hot Rod transformed to give a finger pat to the boy's head. “huh?”

“what is it?”

“This pumpkin, it looks just like you,” Hot Rod turns the pumpkin around. “weird.”

“Ah come on that looks nothing like me,” Danny kneeled to see, “huh, weird.” The pumpkin did look a lot like him.

Suddenly a cold wind blasted them causing his headpiece to fall over his face. Hot Rod curled around the boy, “I think we better leave,” a bad feeling fell over him. when he didn’t receive an answer Hot Rod look down, “Danny?”

Danny was unconscious clutching his chest.

“Frag!” Hot Rod picked up the boy and raced out of the maze still being careful of the other kids. He tried calling up Ratchet but his signal wasn’t getting through. He had to stop though when he realized that he wasn’t out of the maze. “What?”

“You won’t b e able to leave until I get that soul,” a voice croaked behind him.

Hot Rod spun around one hand tucking Danny near his chest the other pulling out his blaster. “Who’s there!”

“Ain’t like that going to anything to me mortal.”

Hot Rod looked down. Sitting on one of the larger pumpkins was a small crooked old man with a crooked cane. In his hand was the pumpkin that had Dannys face on it.

“That boy you have. His soul is my payment and I come to collect,” the man said reaching out towards Danny.

Hot Rod stepped away, “Payment, you not taking Danny.”

“You don’t have a say in it. A deal was made and I come to collect with interest.”

“Who made such a deal; I know his parents wouldn’t have.”

The old man snorts, “who said it was them. This deal was struck eons ago.”

Hot Rod felt and heard his friend gasp and cry, “please can’t you…I don’t know um can we.” Hot Rod was at a loss for words. “I’ll take his place!” he suddenly said. “My spark is better than one child, you get your interest as well.”

The old man raised a non-existent eyebrow, “you want to take his place; do you know who I am?”

“Don’t care, you are not taking my friend,” Hot Rod clutches Danny closer. “Well?”

The old man floated up to him and Hot Rod tried not to flinch at the smell of death. “hmmm, indeed your…spark is strong. But…”

“But; come on will it satisfied this payment?”

The old gave the mech an impatient look, “Fine,” he snaps. With a snap of his fingers, the pumpkin changes. Hot Rod’s face now adorns it. Hot Rod felt weak and had to place Danny on the ground before he fell.

“whats-

“Hmm, it seems that someone powerful doesn’t want to let you go, hmmm. Then I’ll just do this.”

Hot Rod cries out in pain as his chest and sparks burned. It felt like his spark was being ripped to shreds. “I can’t have your whole spark, so I’ll only take half.” The old man scowls. “Last time I deal with your kind.”

When Hot Rod’s processor can function he sends out his distress beacon. Unlike his comms it gets through and Sky Lynx along with Ratchet, Optimus, and the other Autobots. Ratchet quickly took charge ordering both Danny and Hot Rod back to the ARK. Once there Danny was quickly sent off to the local hospital while Ratchet attended to Hot Rod.

“Is he going to be alright Ratchet?” Kup asks sitting next to Hot Rod's berth.

The medic sighs, “I don’t know what happened, but unless you kept some critical medical information from me.” He glares at the older mech. Kup shakes no he had not. “Then somehow Hot Rod is missing half his spark.”

Kup startles, “What!”

“I know, and we won’t know until he wakes.” He sighs, “Just keep an optic on him until he wakes. I have more tests to run.”

Kup sighs, “alright Ratchet.”

The medic puts his hand on the old shoulder, “don’t worry, he’s strong he’ll pull through.”

Hot Rod wakes after four days, when questioned he gives a confusing answer. He doesn’t remember anything except some old dude and pain. after that he was kept close to the Ark until it looked like his condition wouldn’t affect him.

Until after dealing with Unicorn, Hot Rod wouldn't know why his spark was suddenly halved. After Unicorn he remembered everything and glanced down at his new chest plate. “was it you who saved me?”


End file.
